


Figuring It Out

by Roastedsnow



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, No war, Time Travel, married, travel to the future
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:40:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 29,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24131473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roastedsnow/pseuds/Roastedsnow
Summary: When Hermione messes with some old magic, she finds herself in the future with... Malfoy?! Together they'll have to try and figure out what's going on, and how to get back to the past.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 25
Kudos: 110





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic ever! I welcome any comments, but go easy on me :)  
> Enjoy!

Hermione told Ginny she'd meet her at lunch and dashed off to the library. She couldn't wait to spend some recreational time exploring the various books in the Rare Books section she had recently gotten permission to peruse. She had to dive and dodge as she hurried against the flow in one of the crowded hallways as students headed to their common rooms for the break before lunch was served.

In a mistimed sidestep, she came barrelling into Crabbe. "Oof, sorry!" she squeaked out involuntarily, blushing as she tried to go around Crabbe, Goyle and Malfoy, all now stopped and staring at her. "At least buy him dinner first," Malfoy said with a smirk, cocking an eyebrow, as Crabbe smoothed his robes back into place. 

She blushed deeply, collected herself and hurried off. She hadn't even bumped into him, why did he have to comment? And Crabbe had just stood there dumbly. Ugh, Slytherins, they infuriated her. She just imagined Buckbeak knocking Malfoy down and that made her feel better, a small smile on her lips, and she had made it to the library.

She went over to the Rare Books section, where many books were alone on pedestals or under glass if they were too delicate to be handled by hand. There were still many bookshelves for the books that were newer or had endured their time better. Hermione had already explored here a day or two, finding books bound with Veela skin, books about defunct magical theories, or books that had been banned or destroyed for their heresy in certain wizard eras. It was always interesting stuff.

Today, one book caught her eye. Its title was Ingefeallen Towardness, which she recognized as Olde English. She ran over to the reference section and grabbed a translation book. She had dabbled a little in the language, but it was quite different to modern English, so she couldn't rely on her own knowledge. The title meant Revealing Futures. So, unless it was a novel (which was unlikely in this section) it was a book about divination, blech. Still, maybe they actually knew what they were talking about back when this book was published and the field has just been flooded with hacks like Trelawney. She pulled it off the shelf and prepared the Olde to Modern English dictionary.

She opened it up. Hermione was surprised to see a hole carved into the pages. Not carved by a vandal, but formed into the pages. The shape of a figure-eight hole pierced the writings, which were written around the cavity. In the carved hollow was a round disc, the size of her palm. She picked it up, sitting up onto the edge of the chair. She turned the disc over in her hands.

It was gold and bronze, with black markings around the rim. From the centre of the disc, a right triangle came out, one of its edges resting on the disc face, its point facing Hermione. She touched the golden triangle, seeing if it was some kind of dial like an egg timer. It moved under her fingers as she tried to turn it. It spun easily. She moved the book to one side and got closer to the candles on the library desk. She put the disc in the light to see how the triangle moved, if the notches around the face had any significance.

She referred back to the book, but nothing in the first couple of pages referenced any sort of device being included with the book, although there were a few symbols adorning the tops and bottoms of the pages that were also found on the rim of the compass-like trinket. She looked again at the disc, spinning it experimentally, and then flicked the triangle with her forefinger to watch it spin.

It spun around rapidly on the face like a top, slowly coming to a stop. Her head suddenly felt really heavy, and her vision tunnelled, blackening the edges. Hermione knew the signs of low blood sugar, so she sat back to avoid falling forward. Her vision went black completely, her ears buzzed, and her torso went limp, head crashing onto the dusty floor.

* * *

Her eyes fluttered open and she was filled with that normal morning confusion. She lifted her head, looking around at the walls, trying to orient herself and remember her room. Hermione blinked the sleep out of her eyes and sat up a little straighter. The relieving wash of familiarity had still not come. This wasn’t her room, her bed. It wasn’t anywhere in the Gryffindor dormitories, for that matter, or her bed back home. She didn’t know this room. She was in a king bed, and as she turned towards the windows, she saw there was a sleeping lump beside her. 

Hermione started, scrambling backwards in a panic. She fell on the floor on her ass, hard, then got up quickly. She fingered the hem of this silk slip she was wearing. She went for the nearest door. As she closed the door behind her, she felt the cool tile around her. Hermione scanned the large glass shower and Jacuzzi tub as she tried to remember last night. She hadn’t been invited to anyone’s House, as far as she could remember. She didn’t own a black slip. She should have just been in her room. She had been kidnapped- or was having serious memory issues. Although the latter made more sense (no cuffs on her wrists), she had no reason to believe her memory was failing her. She leaned against the counter, deciding to confront her bedmate for more information. She turned towards the door, going to grab it, when something in the mirror caught her eye.

Her face. It was…. It was more tanned, more grown. Her features were slightly different, there were the slightest of lines next to her eyes and mouth. Her hair was longer than she remembered having it last night. Her eyes looked older. She was wearing a black piece of what looked like lingerie: loose and flowy and short but tight and revealing at the breasts. The… slightly larger… breasts. She recognised herself, but it was as if 10 years had passed overnight. Hermione’s hands flattened against her cheeks, feeling and pulling at her cheeks. She saw slight panic in her eyes, and quickly opened the door, leaving her new face behind. 

Her bedmate had sat up. At least she knew who it was. Wait- she looked again. It had looked like… Malfoy. But again, like her own reflection. Older. Not what she imagined he would look like older, rounder faced than Lucius, more like his mother, but it was him. 

MALFOY?! Why was he in her bed?!

“What are you doing here?! What is going on?” Hermione shrieked, stomping up to him.

He rubbed his eyes and then looked at her, his gaze notably checking her out: first down, then up. She folded her arms over her chest.

“What the fuck.” His deep voice reverberated through the air. “What's going on? Are you… GRANGER?”

“Why- How-” she wanted to accuse him of everything, yell and shout, but she took a deep breath, and calmly posed her question, clearly enunciating each word with emphasis and snark. “Why am I... in your room?”

His eyes squeezed shut and his hand went to his forehead. Then he swung his legs out of bed and walked up to the window, saying, “This isn’t my room, there's a window. This obviously isn't the Slytherin dungeons," he sneered. "Where are we? Why are _you_ here?” The emphasis on the “you” clearly meant she was the last person with whom he would want to find himself in an unknown situation.

Hermione stared at him for a moment without answering, and then quickly headed towards a door opposite the bed. She sped across a wood floor hallway to a set of stairs and ran down. She was led to the first floor of a house she still did not recognise. She ran into the kitchen, looking for... she wasn't sure. She found a pile of letters on the counter. Hermione reached for them and heard Malfoy thundering down the steps. She read the addresses on the envelopes and stood, silent as he came up behind her. 

“Draco Malfoy. It has your name. This is your house. And it says Oxford? Are we in Oxford?” She whirled to face him, “You better start talking, Malfoy.”

“I’m 16, I'm still attending Hogwarts, why the hell would I have a letter to me addressed to Oxford?" He ripped the envelope from her hand and read the parchment quickly. "And why would it be a bill requesting rent payment?" He shoved the parchment into her face so she could see the details of the bill. “God Hermione, I thought you were smartest witch of our age,” he drawled sarcastically.

“Sixteen?” Although she knew he was sixteen, same age as her, looking at him she couldn’t believe it. And the letters. She looked down at the other envelope and her mouth fell open. 

“Yeah.. although… Am I taller? And you look different, Hermione. What the fuck is going on.” Malfoy asked no one in particular. Hermione still hadn’t moved and Malfoy moved beside her to see what she was gaping at. 

Hermione Granger-Malfoy, the address said. Hermione Granger- _Malfoy_. How? What?

She heard Malfoy mutter “Shit.” under his breath and she knew he had seen it, too. 


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione sat down on the plush cushions, sinking back into the sofa. “Let me try to remember!” she reprimanded him. Malfoy continued pacing in front of the fireplace, seething, trying to work out this mess logically, which seemed impossible. She tried to remember last night. None of the nights she could remember were last night. What was she doing yesterday? She was… She was with Ginny. Then…

Realisation lit up her face and Malfoy stopped pacing and said, “What?” 

“The last thing I remember wasn’t at night. I was in the library… I was reading through a particular book about divination."

“So it’s your bloody fault! I knew I went to sleep in my bed, like always, nothing different. But why am I here then? Why did I get dragged into this weird experiment you've got yourself into?! What do I have to do with your muggleborn activities?” His face turned malicious. "Did you do something to bring me here? Are you in love with me?" He looked at her with disgust.

Her eyes narrowed, but she ignored the offense, straightening herself and keeping her head high. "Not if you were the last man on earth, Malfoy. The book was written in Olde English, I think it was about premonitions or something. You were the last person on my mind.

“But if I can hypothesise by my looks, (“Your tits” Malfoy muttered under his breath; she ignored it) and your looks, and the envelopes, and the house... “ Her voice trailed off slightly then, before resuming, “It was less about fortune-telling and more about fortune-seeing. I think we went into the future... 

"And I guess in the future…” She didn’t want to finish that sentence.

“I married you?” Malfoy scoffed, pretending to retch. “Why would I do that?”

“Well, God only knows, Malfoy!” she screamed at him. She hadn’t meant to get so angry, but he was being insufferable, and he was insulting her when they needed to be focusing on getting back to Hogwarts. “I don’t want to be here either!”

She stood up angrily from the couch, glaring at him before stomping back up the stairs to ...the...(she didn’t want to say their) bedroom. She went into the bathroom and sat on the loo and sighed. She was still wearing the small nightdress. What should she do? Hermione just wanted her mum. Now she didn’t even know where she could find her. Was she really in Oxford? Hermione went up to the mirror, surveying her new looks. She rubbed at her cheeks, and combed her hair with her fingers, and squeezed her new breasts. Hermione left the bathroom to find her closet and a new outfit. 

There was a large wardrobe in the corner where she found some casual robes. All the panties were thongs or lacy bits which was nothing compared to the discomfort of finding briefs she could only assume belonged to this older-Malfoy. To whom she was apparently married? She gagged and tried to wrap her head around all that had happened, going back to the bed to rummage in the nightstand for some more information. On that night stand, she found her wand, which she quickly pocketed, surprised at herself for not reaching for it sooner.

She wanted to contact her parents, and thought about sending them a patronus, whose calming presence wouldn't startle them too much, despite the magic. But she couldn't capture those good memories at the moment enough to make a proper one, she was too anxious.

She grabbed some parchment, quill and ink from the wardrobe and drafted up a letter. She sucked at the quill and tried to figure out what she would say. Well, if she didn’t feel like any time had passed, and Malfoy didn’t either, then the whole world was probably waking up confused with over ten years and no explanation. Otherwise Malfoy would have woken up a loving husband, and Hermione, the only one present while she had been looking at that book, would have been confused and disgusted. However, given that they were muggles, they might have been left out of it.

She decided instead to contact Harry, wand to wand. She whispered the incantation and held the wand to her throat. Harry's wand would be shivering until he said the incantation to open communication.

“Hello?” the deep voice of a man answered. 

“Harry? It’s Hermione,” she replied. It was unmistakably his voice, but sounded deeper than she remembered.

“Wotcher, Hermione! I was just thinking about you, I’m at the ministry, I know, I shouldn't be working on the weekend, but I had too much to catch up on, and there are some things that I'm hoping to ask you about bec--"

Hermione cut him off, “Harry, Harry. I woke up with...someone, and I think I’m in Oxford, and-”

His voice grew serious, “Oh God, Hermione. Does Malfoy know? Are you close to home? Maybe you should be talking to Ginny about this...”

“No. Harry. What?” She sighed. Her old friend was apparently part of this future world that she had fallen into. “Harry, where are you?” 

“I’m in the ministry, I told you. Are you having a marital crisis? Do you need want Ginny to floo in? She has a bit of a handful with the toddlers but maybe I could drop them off with Molly--”

Hermione cut him off again, soaking in the new facts but not wanting to listen to this older voice of Harry, who didn’t understand her. “Hey, look, I have to go. I’ll talk to you later. Thanks for answering.”

She hung up on his goodbyes. Hermione looked out the window, and an owl flew in, not hers because it flew back off after she untied the letter, which was a letter from Pansy with some discussion regarding a dinner party, and some other things that didn't make much sense without context. Pansy? She thought, finding it quite a strange person to be receiving letters from, but she continued on her fact finding mission.

In the hallway landing, there was a large arched window, with a perch and home for an owl, and one was there now. The brown eagle owl stirred from its rest and hooted softly as she came near. This was obviously her owl (his owl? she vaguely remembered that he had an eagle owl bring him letters in Hogwarts). She unrolled some littered bits of parchments sitting on the windowsill, old messages he had brought in. Most were in Malfoy's handwriting, with mundane relationship messages like,

Hey honey, I’ll be home late tonight, going to the pub with friends. I’ll be home for dinner. I love you.

It was odd to read, especially knowing the Malfoy she knew, blood purist, Slytherin, who didn't shirk from calling her slurs. She went back to the bedroom and collapsed on the bed sighing, feeling young and alone, isolated in this house with a whirlwind on her mind, a whole new life, and only her enemy to understand her.

* * *

She gasped, waking up suddenly from a sleep she hadn’t realised she had fallen into. Depression fell upon Hermione as she realised she was still in this odd house with her nemesis in the weird future. She groaned, wiping her face with her hands, and jumped out of bed, heading back to the kitchen to find a glass of water. She passed the opening to the sitting room, where Malfoy, in the middle of shuffling around with his back to her, noticed her come downstairs and jumped up as if he had been caught doing something. Hermione rolled her eyes and continued into the kitchen. She banged around, opening cabinets, looking for a glass, and then looking for a pitcher of water in the fridge. She stood at the island, taking small sips, when Malfoy came in.

“Alright. I found some records and correspondences. We’re 28. We’re in Oxford right now. But the files still had no ideas on how the fuck we got here.”

“Yeah, I found a-- some letters so I know all that.” She hadn’t found out their age, but she couldn’t let him be a better detective. 

“Yeah, well, did you find out why I got dragged into this mess? None of my friends were wildly messaging me asking how they aged 12 years overnight. I don’t think you’re quite hit with the implication of what you’ve done to me, Hermione. I’m not just stuck in this godforsaken nightmare of a future with you-- I’ve also lost 12 years of my life. Twelve years of my youth! Probably the best twelve years of my goddamn life- and you haven’t even apologised! I did nothing to get caught up in this mess. Your fucking extra credit projects have landed us in--”

“Shut up, Malfoy. You think I like this?”

“Well, what girl wouldn’t be thrilled to wake up next to me, and find that she has me waiting in her future? Especially with this body. God, I age well.”

Hermione practically screamed in frustration. “Fuck! I have no idea what I’m doing here! I hate you! You’re an insufferable git and this is the last place I saw my life going! I’m sixteen and stuck in an old body with the most arrogant boy in my school and I have no idea how I got here or how to get back! So if you could just shut your fucking mouth and leave me in peace so I can figure out how we can get back…”

Malfoy threw up his hands, in an obvious lack-of-faith gesture, and went through the back door of the house to the yard. Hermione watched him in the window above the sink, as he began to jog barefoot through the neat lawn. He was still wearing the tight undershirt and loose pyjama pants she had seen him wake up in as he disappeared around the corner of the house. 

Hermione fastened her hair back with a clip she found on the side table in the hall, and looked around for a handbag. She found the house keys in a bowl near a door which turned out to lead to a shed, and she found a handbag complete with her apparation license stating she was indeed 28 in a hallway closet. Hermione took the keys and locked up the house, and apparated to the city centre. She felt giddy for a moment. All current issues aside, she couldn't even apparate yet back home!

She walked along the pretty streets of muggle Oxford and suddenly stopped in her tracks. Other than reading extensively on the theory and watching older students practice, she had never apparated. Apparating with no practice could be extremely dangerous, and she had gotten here with no qualms? Hermione had never stepped foot in Oxford, could not even tell you how to get to the wizarding alley, but she had been able to picture the destination enough to arrive here safely without a second thought?

Hermione tried to approach this as logically as was possible in the current situation. It would seem to be that when she was not stressing about what was happening, all the information about this life she was in was in her brain. Her body was 28, so why wouldn’t the brain inside that body be too? Once you've apparated enough, it becomes mostly muscle memory. Somehow it was only her consciousness that had skipped all those years in the matter of a night. 

Hermione found this both comforting and unsettling. It was unsettling to think that even her brain was living in this life she hadn’t properly arrived at, but it was comforting to think that if she needed any information bad enough, she could try and search her mind and maybe find it.

She had hoped to find some inspiration for a plan there, standing on the pavement next to a sweets shop, muggles talking on the phone walking by occasionally, but there was nothing. She walked a couple blocks until she found a curry takeaway, got a couple different meals, finding both pounds and galleons in her handbag. Hermione now wanted to get back, and thought about the idea of apparating again. If she thought about it too much, she couldn't remember the feeling of even how to start. But, just following the impulse of not wanting to walk home, she found herself at the front door with a loud crack. 

It was odd, like using peripheral vision. Hermione wanted to turn and look at what she was supposed to do, but if she did that, she would find only her sixteen-year-old knowledge. If she trusted herself to do it, she would. It was a course in trust and instinct that Hermione was stumbling to learn, especially as someone who preferred to be practiced and knowledgeable in the theory and books before ever beginning a task.

Back at the house, she came inside with the bags of food to find Malfoy, head down on the kitchen table, wearing a dark cotton robe that contrasted his pale hair shining from the sun in the window. When she put the food down on the kitchen table, he jerked up his head. She caught a glimpse of his face: tired, unsure, before he wiped his face with his hands and sneered at her.   
“What are you doing here?” he asked scathingly. She started- thrown off by seeing him so humanised, and then by the sheer hatred of his greeting.

“I… I brought food. Fuck, where else am I going to go? I’m in bloody Oxford… I don’t know anyone here.” Hermione sighed, debating whether to try the sympathy card with this useless human being. “And according to the evidence, I blooming live here.” 

There was a brief moment of silence as she glared at him, and he studied the wall. Then she said, “I brought some tikka masala, and some other curries. I don’t know if you’ve eaten…”

“I haven’t. I’ll take a plate.” 

Malfoy disappeared to the other room, and Hermione looked around the kitchen for plates. She tried to rely on her quasi-knowledge, and successfully found the cutlery on the first try, although it could have been a coincidence. The food still hot, she prepared herself a plate and sat down at the table. Malfoy came back in with some books in his hand that he put down on the table across from her. He grabbed the plate and fork she had left out for him and served himself some food, sitting down next to his reading.

They ate silently for a few minutes. 

“How did you get this food?” He asked her. “I heard you apparate away, but we haven't learned that yet. I know you probably get some privileges from being Potter's lackey, but otherwise why would your parents have brought you to King's Cross in their muggle transport?"

She ignored the strange feeling of knowing that he noticed how she got to the station and answered him, becoming excited at her discovery despite her urge to treat Malfoy with indifference. 

“I thought about getting away, and was able to apparate automatically. I went to Oxford, the city centre anyway, as if I had done it a million times. The thing is, I probably have. Or.. well… this me probably has. I figure if I’m in a 28-year-old body, I have a 28-year-old mind too.”

Malfoy grunted, eyes on his food. There were the noises of scraping of plates and chewing before he actually responded.

“Well, that makes sense.” Another pause. “When I went on that jog earlier, I ended up at a quidditch pitch... I went over to watch the people playing, and everyone knew me… As I left, I said the guy’s name as I said goodbye. He hadn’t introduced himself.”

They chewed over this new information they had both stumbled upon. Malfoy didn’t say anything else after that, and there was nothing that Hermione really wanted to say to him. She watched the sun set in the window behind him, and when she finished, she put her plate in the sink. Hermione put the leftovers in the fridge and she wiped down the counters. She turned to wipe down the table and saw Malfoy was sitting with the empty plate in front of him, staring ahead. Hermione groaned. In his silence, she had forgotten he was there for a moment. 

“I’m not cleaning that up for you,” she snapped at him. He looked at her, caught off guard. “And you can find some guest room or enjoy yourself on the sofa because I’m sleeping in the bedroom.”

Malfoy got up and walked over, towering over Hermione. “Not feeling it tonight, sweetie?” he asked, sarcasm dripping from the pet name. Hermione’s reply got caught in her throat as she suddenly breathed in his smell. He smelled good, spiced and clean from the shower with an underlying smell of ...men, heavy and seductive. Her body automatically reacted to the pheromones, leaving her crossing her legs and blushing. Hermione made her face stern in an attempt to hide how her body was betraying her. 

Malfoy noticed though, and took a step closer. He said softly to her, “Good night then, wifey,” and swiftly bent his head to hers, kissing her full on the lips. 

Hermione’s brain took charge then, the adrenaline of the feeling kicking her back to reality. She pulled back, shocked, and quickly smacked him in the face. Malfoy pulled back sharply from her blow, his face surprised, before laughing darkly. He walked away after that, disappearing upstairs. The derision in his laugh rang in her ears as her fingers lifted to her mouth, touching the still-electrified lips that had been met with two soft pillows. Her fury rose in her throat at the show of him so clearly playing with her. She washed her plate and his despite herself (she really didn’t want flies) with quick washing spells, and strode up the stairs. 

Her relief was palpable at finding the bedroom empty. Hermione found some pyjamas, got ready in the bathroom, hoping it was a safe bet to use the pink toothbrush, and got under the covers. She was struggling to go to sleep, finding her body still flushed with the night’s events. Hating herself, Hermione put her hand down her underwear, and went to work, finding sleep easy to find as the waves of orgasm washed away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter, hope you liked it!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Malfoy decide to work together, and the first day at her job doesn't go so well.

Hermione awoke the next day to the beautiful sunlight this room received in the morning. As she reoriented herself, she thought to herself that future-her had wonderful interior decorating skills. The four-post bed frame and the wardrobe and bedside tables were a dark mahogany, she had beige silk sheets and the comforter was patterned in beige and a deep green which matched the curtains. Slytherin colours, she thought, her mouth twisting involuntarily. But it really was quality furniture and beautifully decorated. The carpet was soft and plush as she walked to the bathroom and went through her morning routine. She hopped in the shower, and was delighted to see that her body was more toned than before. She used the girly products in the shower, including an in-shower lotion she hadn’t ever used before, and a face wash which left her feeling fresh and soft. 

Hermione got out of the shower and stood in front of the mirror, naked. She had a brief moment of panic as she searched for stretch marks on her stomach, relieved to find none, and hoped it followed that there wasn’t a baby somewhere in the house, forgotten. She admired her wide hips, flat stomach, and fuller breasts. She played with her long wavy hair, putting it up, leaving it down, seeing what styles worked with her new mature look. Her hair seemed to have calmed a little since school, probably a mix of lower hormone levels and better knowledge of how to wrangle it. She strode into the bedroom and changed into some fitted burgundy robes, casual but chic, like most of what she appeared to own. She left her still-wet hair down, put on some slippers, and went downstairs to eat breakfast.

She was surprised to find Malfoy already eating some toast at the table. He was showered and dressed. A quick glance at the clock served to show that yes, it was 9 o’clock, but it was Sunday, it was still the weekend. Hermione didn’t even know where he had slept the night before.

Hermione made some quick porridge and debated not sitting down at the table with him, but decided against shunning him. She had woken up in a good mood with some new ideas. Malfoy looked up from his toast, and in an odd couple of seconds, just looked at her, at her face, into her eyes. Then he glanced back at his food and said, “The other two rooms upstairs are an office and a guest room.” 

“What?” she replied, having heard him but just unbelieving of his friendly conversation.

"Upstairs. It’s just the bedroom, an office, and a guest room. No crib, thank god.” 

“Oh.” Hermione tried to hide a smile at the idea they had both had. It was a little strange, that they both still hated each other, and yet had been able to accept the fact that their future-selves were married enough to wonder if they had had a child. Hermione took his start of a conversation as a good sign and decided to approach him with her idea.

“So, I was thinking. Since we are the only two people who have no idea how we got here, and because we both want to get back to our normal lives, why don’t we try to work together to get back? I don’t want to spend time with you anymore than you do, but it seems so far we’ve figured out a lot of the same things on our own and if we worked together, maybe we could figure out how to get back? Two heads are better than one and all that…”

Malfoy nodded. “Yes, I suppose that would be alright. My cleverness and your smarts should get this done quickly,” he said.

Hermione took the compliment in stride and nodded curtly back, glad to have made some progress. She tried again.

“And as an act of good faith of our new pact, you should apologise for last night.” 

“What?” Malfoy said indignantly. 

“You should apologise for coming onto me. And- and-” she stuttered out, “And you didn’t clean up your plate!” Her voice sounded shrill and immature. It was obvious to the both of them, and Malfoy responded by laughing.

“I’ll work with you, Granger. But I don’t owe you anything. And I know you enjoyed last night, so there’s nothing to be sorry about.” He smirked, and Hermione wondered anxiously if he heard her masturbate. She had been quiet last night though, so she reasoned that he was just referring to the kiss.

“Whatever. You’re such an prat.” She made a point to slam the cupboards and doors as she put away her breakfast. 

When she was done, she leaned against the counter and looked at him. Malfoy was still sitting silently, drinking a mug of tea. “So. Any ideas on what to do first?”

The rest of the day flew by. Malfoy flooed his parents, after what seemed to be a brief panic wondering if they were both still alive. Only hearing his side of the conversation, he kept it brief, not mentioning any trouble and giving curt responses and sly questions. Afterwards, they searched the house together and with a combination of letters, journals, photographs, and book dedications, were able to glean some information.

All in all, they found that they had been married for two-ish years and had gotten together sometime after Hogwarts, where they had both gone to work at the Oxford Research of Magickal Items. Still, while this gave them an idea of their past, they knew nothing about their current lives. They knew that they had some friends here in Oxford, but most were in London. But no details on how the _they_ even was, or what their life was like.

It was strange to see things that she had “done”, pictures of her in places she didn’t recognise. It was an odd experience and she felt sick to her stomach. 

“Ugh, this isn’t me. I just want to go home.”

Malfoy looked at her, frowning, but didn’t say anything. 

Over dinner, Malfoy quizzed her on what exactly had happened in that library the day before yesterday. It was so odd to think that two days from her trip to the library, she would be where she is now, although it still only felt like two days ago. She walked through finding the book, and whatever she found in the book. He keyed in on details of the book; if they could find the book, it might solve a lot of questions. 

"It was a large leather tome--"

“Oh, great,” Malfoy drawled sarcastically, “Let’s just call a bookstore and tell them to look out for a heavy leather book. What was the title though?” Malfoy demanded.

“Ingefeallen Toweardnes,” Hermione replied. "Roughly translated, it means "revealing futures". I thought that it was about divination, but..."

“Okay, we have something to go on. Let’s write to the bookstores we know in Diagon Alley and ask for it.”

“It was a very old tome in the Rare Books Section. In Olde English. I don't think we'll find it in a bookstore.”

“Well, you don’t know that for sure. And you don't know what happened after you found it.”

“Well, yes, I ended up here.”

“But…do you think in our past in this life you still found it?”

“I… I don’t know? Okay, let’s write to some bookstores, and also try to find another copy by contacting some charity shops or niche libraries, like those that carry obscure spell books and stuff like that.”

“Sounds good. And that top?”

“It wasn’t a top. It was… well. Hm. I was holding it. That’s the last thing I remember doing.” 

“Maybe there's one in every book? Or maybe you kept it?"

"Hm, yeah, it looked like it came with the book, but let's keep an eye out for it around the house."

“Sounds good.” Malfoy started to throw out the takeaway boxes they had ordered for dinner and Hermione got up and cleaned the plates. “So, I get the bedroom tonight right?”

“What? My room? Why?” Hermione asked.

“ _Your_ room? I woke up there too. That’s _our_ room. And the guest bed is small and lumpy, and the bathroom is in the hall. I want my share of the room.”

“We agreed I would stay there! I’m the lady, I can’t sleep on a lumpy bed!”

“I'm a Malfoy and I also deserve a nice bed. You decided you would stay there. I just respected your wishes! ” 

“Respect? You have not respected me once this whole time!” Hermione yelled at him.

“You’re still mad about the kiss last night?” Malfoy sneered at her. 

Hermione glared at him like she was going to smack him again, and Malfoy raised up his hands in surrender. 

“I’m still getting that room tonight,” he said. She growled at him, and his face lit up and he chuckled. “Easy there tiger. You don’t scare me.”

Hermione flipped her hair at him and finished in the sink. When she turned back to insist on the room one last time, she found the kitchen empty. He was a tall man, but he knew how to be quiet when needed.

She stomped up the stairs and strode into the bedroom. She found him pulling off his robes, shirtless and now in boxers. Hermione yelped, covering her eyes with her hands.

“Get out of my room!” she yelled at him. She uncovered her eyes and saw him in the bathroom brushing his teeth. “Seriously!”

She could stomp around all she wanted but it made no impact on Malfoy. He got in the bed and reached for the light. Hermione still stood in the doorway, unsure of what to do.

“The extra room is down the hall. Third door, don’t open the second, it's a closet that's stuffed so full everything falls out,” he said. After a beat, he added, “You could always join me.” He patted the bed and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. Hermione stifled a scream of frustration and marched out the bedroom.

She went through the third door into the bedroom, like Malfoy had said, and found it a bit barren. It had a small double bed, a single nightstand with one lamp, and a small dresser in the corner with some magazines. She had forgotten to grab pyjamas, and she didn’t feel like going back out to the hallway to the bathroom where she wouldn’t even have a toothbrush, so she stripped to her undershirt and pants, did a cursory cleaning spell on her teeth, crawled under the thick comforter, and fell asleep. 

* * *

An alarm spell woke her the next morning at 7:00 but she snoozed it and fell back asleep until 9:30. Hermione got up, put on her robes from the night before and knocked on the bedroom so she could get a change of clothes. Getting no answer, she yelled, “I’m coming in!” ready to find Malfoy sleeping, or in the bathroom. The room was empty, the bed was made, the bathroom silent. She grabbed some fresh robes and changed quickly.

She went downstairs to find the kitchen empty, and the living room, too. She prepared toast and an an owl flew in. She poured water from the boiling kettle into her tea mug and gave the owl a treat from the jar on the counter, and took off the scroll on its leg. It was a letter from the ORMI (Oxford Research of Magickal Items). They were asking where she was, if she was sick, why she wasn’t in, if there was an emergency… She slapped her forehead. It was Monday! She probably had work!

Hermione wondered if that’s why Malfoy was gone, if he also had work and had managed to figure out how to go. She felt slightly abandoned. Waking up to the empty room and house had felt nice at first, especially because she wasn’t relaxed around him, she didn’t like him, she’d rather be alone than with an enemy. But knowing that he had continued his "normal" life and hadn’t helped clue her in made her feel more lost and a little neglected by the only person who she had on her team right now.

Hermione felt she couldn't skip out on work, rule-follower as she was. That decision made, she stood in the kitchen uncertainly, not knowing what to do. She could try to do more research, she could try to rely on her intuition… which was safer? She decided on research rather than trying to grasp at some information she wasn't sure she would find. She would walk to work this morning until she felt safer apparating to someplace she'd never been. Some letters filed on her desk in the office upstairs held the address of the research institute on its letterhead. Apparently, she was head of the Reparation of Damaged Artefacts department, which held promise. She cast a quick orienteering spell, and headed off to work.

Forty minutes later, she arrived at the institute, and from her sense of calm, she knew her office was in the nearest building. Hermione realised she had no idea if the robes she was wearing were appropriate, or if there was a uniform, like in ministry positions. She had a moment of anxiety and insecurity, but calmed her nerves and called on her Gryffindor courage. As she fought to stay calm, she power walked to her office, cursing Malfoy in her head. They could have called off work together to figure stuff out, but him going to work had pressured her to do the same.

A young woman, presumably her assistant, greeted her cheerfully but worriedly, curious if she was okay, as to why she was late. Hermione just explained that the weekend had been rough and she had missed her alarm this morning, which her assistant accepted. Hermione figured she was important enough in the department to get away with things.

In her office, she sat at the desk, looking in the drawers. Her assistant in the adjoining room, glanced over a bit too often, obviously disturbed by Hermione's frantic rifling. Over the next hour, a few memos flew onto her desk. She huffed and tried to get some semblance of orientation but it was like the first day in class, when one feels absolutely lost, except this was the middle of a semester. The memos were brief, like one which read:

HGM

See note 4 regarding HT transference. We can discuss at meeting next week. JS will attend.

WM

It was too cryptic for her to make any sense of it without more context. The ink changed to blue when she had finished reading it, which startled her and made her wonder if the sender knew that she had read it. Which was nerve-wracking since now she didn't have an excuse later if something was being asked of her. Hermione tried to find some numbered notes on her desk, or any sort of abbreviation key to find out what HT was. She wondered if she rely on her assistant, for example, asking her to take care of this for her. Hermione hemmed and hawed, rifled and fretted, and by mid-morning her “deep brain” had done nothing to help, and she was unravelling into a ball of anxiety. She went to her assistant.

“I am feeling really very awful…” Hermione made her voice croaky and faint, and stood a little lopsided, putting a hand to her head. “I have to get home and rest, I’ll let you know how I’m feeling tomorrow.”

The assistant looked a little startled. “Oh, okay, I’ll let John know,” she said. Hermione guessed that in the event of sickness, her assistant was not the one to be able to let her off the hook. But she was tired, tired of trying to figure out this life that wasn’t hers. Work would be fine, they’d figure something out. Right now, she couldn’t care less about what they did. She grabbed her things and practically ran out the door. 

Out of sight of the assistant, she walked as quickly as she could without drawing suspicion and found the building directory, pinpointing Malfoy's office. She barged in angrily, catching him frowning at a letter, biting a quill thoughtfully.

“Granger?” He was caught unawares, his face betraying emotion for a moment, “Why are you here?”

“Malfoy, what are you doing?” she interrogated.

“I’m working, why?” he drawled at her, quickly composing his face into the snobby half-lidded look of disdain he used when he wanted to project superiority.

She tried not to growl at his answer. “I don’t know what I’m doing! I can’t do this alone! We can’t just… continue this life! We have to figure things out!” Every sentence was a desperate cry, almost a whisper as she tried not to raise her voice.

He didn’t respond, and actually turned to look back at the parchment he had been studying when she walked in, so she continued, “I told them I’m sick; I’m going home.”

“All right,” Malfoy said coolly, and that was it. She stomped out.

Hermione collapsed against the wall in the hallway, upset, frustrated, confused and irritated at his response, and the whole situation, and this whole day. She remembered the long walk home and she sobbed quietly, angry at everything, and utterly hopeless.

Two wizards in green robes discussing broomstick regulations walked by, suddenly cutting short their conversation and looking at her with unsure expressions on their faces, and Hermione felt embarrassed. She wiped her face, thought of the nice big bay window in the kitchen, and apparated back to the house.

* * *

Hermione lay sprawled on the sofa under a blanket, reading a book she had found on the coffee table. She had finished crying, had a glass of water, wrote her parents a letter, and now was trying to calm down with an escape into this nonfiction book on the history of the aeroplane.

The door shut loudly, and she looked up, wide-eyed. Malfoy walked in with bags of groceries, and put them on the table. He put things away, not acknowledging her, and she turned back to the book, frowning. Malfoy continued to scrape around in the kitchen, and Hermione pulled the blanket higher up, trying to concentrate on the book and block him out. 

Some minutes later he walked up with a plate with a sandwich on it, and put it on the table in front of her. 

“Here,” he said.

He sat down in the armchair heavily, sighing, and took out a book and quill. She put down her book, realising she was very hungry, and grabbed the sandwich. It was cheese and chutney and she ate it in small bites. Malfoy continued to read and scrawl notes in the margins, ignoring her. 

“Thanks,” she said finally in a small voice, “I didn’t think you would come home.”

He looked up at her briefly, but his lips pressed into a thin line as he continued what he was doing.

“Why, or rather how, did you go to work today?” she asked, through bites of the sandwich.

He sighed heavily, like he was answering a pestering toddler and looked up. “We figured it out yesterday, remember? Our brains know what they’re doing. I relax, and I work on instinct. I woke up and went to work like I have for probably a few years, at least." He paused, running a hand through his hair.

"It’s fun work, it’s interesting, I shouldn’t really be missing, it’s a small department that relies on me.”

The subtext seemed heavy with accusations to her. Like, _why couldn’t you figure it out if I could_ , and _look, I had to come home and my work is suffering because you can’t get it together_. But she was also surprised at the responsibility Malfoy felt for this work. She didn't think he felt responsibility for anything. And liking work? Why did he have to work anyway, wasn't his family loaded? Her mind continued to spiral at his comment. Why was he being so calm? 

She frowned, thinking about what he said. She wanted to yell at him that it wasn’t so easy for her, or spit out the sandwich. Instead, she just got up, blanket discarded, and left the room abruptly. She went upstairs to the bathroom, and sat in the empty tub, feeling more alone than ever. Finally, she had gathered her thoughts and arguments, and went back downstairs. 

Malfoy was reading some pile of papers at the kitchen table with a mug of tea beside him. He looked like he belonged there, his feet in socks tapping on the wood floor, his hand running through his hair as he concentrated. Hermione realised how strange it was, how intimate it was to see someone in this state-- how they were at home, when no one was around. It was so different from the Malfoy she knew at school, and not just because this one was older.

“Why?” She announced to him, and he looked up, blinking, “Why go to work? Let’s try to get back. Like you said, we lost twelve years, that’s a lot to lose. We don’t want to be here with each other. Why go to work and pretend everything is normal? Why go about a ‘normal day’? Who cares? This isn’t our life.”

He rolled his eyes. “Bright witch, my ass. You’re being so short-sighted. We don’t know how long we’ll be trapped here. You think this house is free? We don’t know how long it’ll take for us to get back, and in the meantime, we need to keep making money if we want to eat, and have a roof over our head, and pay the bills and not go to jail or end up homeless.”

Her mouth hung open unconsciously, and she quickly shut it. Hermione had only ever lived at home or at Hogwarts, so while she knew this all to be true in the abstract sense, she had never had to take care of that stuff. Immediately she felt silly for not realising that if they didn’t make money, things wouldn’t get paid and they could lose this comfortable setting they were in.

Malfoy continued as Hermione struggled to find a rebuttal, “Plus, we don’t know what information we may find at work. If that’s where we spend most of our time, it could give us clues, or leads, or we could find coworkers who are confidants and have information for us, et cetera.”

Hermione still didn’t respond and Malfoy looked smug, happy to have outwitted her. 

“So, I’d say you get used to becoming zen and finding the instinct you need, because you need to go to work, hon.” He smirked and got up, putting the mug in the sink and taking his papers to the armchair in the other room.

Hermione was left fuming in the kitchen, her mind going through a million thoughts, many of them poisoned with hatred at Malfoy. How dare he tell her what to do? But he was right, and that made her more angry. She’d have to figure out work, it was all she could do.

The eagle owl flew in and chirped at her, bringing a letter from her parents, asking her to please use the normal post next time, as owls flying into their house really made them feel anxious. She smiled at that. It continued, detailing what her parents had done over the weekend and would she please feel free come visit sometime soon. Reading it helped calm her and she was glad there was still a bit of her old life she could depend on.

She cooked some pasta for dinner with some canned sauce she found in the pantry, made a bowl for herself and left the lids on the pots so it would stay warm for when Malfoy found it. She took the bowl up to the bedroom and locked the door when she went in, eating at the floor leaning against the footboard of the bed frame. She put the empty bowl next to the door and took a long warm bath. 

Relaxing her muscles and letting the water wash away the ugly day, she reminded herself Malfoy was her enemy. They were working together for a common goal, but they were not on the same side. Hermione was mildly repulsed remembering the kiss Saturday night and how her body had reacted. That would not be happening again, or he would get worse than a slap.

When she was all dry and wrapped up in some comfortable pyjamas getting ready to get in bed, there was a soft knock on the door. 

“Yes,” she said in a hard voice, “You can open the door.”

Malfoy opened the door but didn’t step in. His face had a neutral expression on it, almost bored.

“Thanks for dinner,” he said, no hint of appreciation in his tone. “I’m still going to work tomorrow, but you should take the day off, work on emptying your brain and tapping into 28-year-old brain.”

She didn’t respond and he took a beat before adding, “Good night.” And closing the door firmly.

Hermione felt turmoil. His comments aggravated her but some part of her felt like maybe it was his twisted way of giving support and advice, although it definitely came off as a stern command. She stifled her rebellious spirit, deciding to take his advice, partly because any guiding force right now was a help in this weird place where she felt so lost.

She resolved to owl her work in the morning saying she was still poorly, and to try and relax and figure some things out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors are always so graceful in their notes, but I don't know how! Publishing your work is so nerve-wracking!! I can't believe I'm subjecting all of you to this story I wrote mostly to scratch an itch... .but I'm glad you're here for the ride! Hope you enjoyed! Let me know what you thought!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione tries to get it together.

The next morning she really felt the emptiness in the house, without Ginny and Lavender bustling about, with that lived-in feel coming from two strangers… though one of them was her from the future, and the other someone she knew, but hated. It was all just so off. Still, she began to settle down, sent an owl to the assistant, hoping she would know who to contact, poured a glass of orange juice, and settled down on the couch with the blanket in her lap to relax and continue reading her book.

After finishing a couple of chapters, she put it down and thought more about the zen state of mind she needed to reach in order to go to work. In this particular instance, thinking was not what would help her, but it was her main tool in her toolkit. She had to figure out how to think about not thinking... Hermione growled in frustration and got up. She hated when she couldn't rely on books to figure out a solution. That was more Harry and Ron's forte. 

Harry and Ron! Hermione decided she needed to see her friends, and it would be a glad way to spend the day. She pinched some floo powder from the mantle, and loudly stated "The Burrow!" heading on a whirlwind of green fire to her friend's house.

The house looked the same, and a familiar feeling of comfort and home filled her. She could hear screams of children outside, and went into the bright sunshine of the crisp fall day. Molly stood by the door looking out at the yard, heard her and turned around, wand out, before relaxing and smiling.

"Hermione! Hello there! I didn't know you were coming!" She bustled over and gave her a firm hug, before turning her attention back out to the yard, where there were two toddlers playing in the grass with some toys. One had bright red hair, a Weasley presumably, but the other one had messy black hair. "Not working today, dear?" Molly asked, offering a plate of biscuits.

Hermione hedged, "Well, no, today I took a holiday. Needed some rest." She turned to watch the older toddler, the redhead boy, run towards a child's broom leaning against the house and grab it, running back to the other child. 

"Be careful on that, James!" Molly called loudly, and turning back to Hermione in a sweet voice, "Yes, some rest now and then is good. I'm glad to hear that you're taking care of yourself dear. I haven't seen you in ages, not since Teddy's birthday!" 

Hermione smiled, making a noise of agreement, and looked warmly at the children. James, she watched, was showing the broom off to the younger child, another boy but with black hair, thick and messy like Harry's, seeming to want to help him onto it. Molly offered her some tea, and she agreed, so as Molly bustled off to the kitchen, Hermione grabbed a biscuit off the tray and walked closer to the kids, taking over the babysitting for the moment.

She nibbled on the biscuit, as the redhead pushed his companion roughly onto the broom, helping in the brute way that children do. The little boy on the broom fell onto the ground, and the red-haired boy laughed and giggled at his mates' misfortune. The little boy started to cry.

"Oh, no, Albus, are you okay?" Hermione rushed forwards. Albus? Where did she get that name? She realised it was his name, come out of the back of her mind with her worry for the little boy. These were brothers, and if it wasn't obvious enough to piece together from their looks and names, Ginny and Harry's children. Hermione helped Albus off the ground, her head swirling. Just a week ago she was with a 15 year-old Ginny, and now she was touching that same girl's offspring. It was...weird.

But she felt love and affection for the kids, as she hugged Albus tight to her chest. A love that may be in her whole body, not just her brain. 

She spent the rest of the afternoon with Molly and the kids, not bothering to even ask after her friends, realising it was a weekday and Ron may not even live here anymore. Molly was happy for her company and chatted a bit about house reparations or her grandkids, but in general they just played with the children, and Molly got a chance to catch up on some housework while Hermione helped to watch them. Hermione pieced together that Molly was the full time carer for them while Harry and Ginny worked during the week, but she loved it and didn't mind, and was repaid by the Potters helping pay for food and maintenance around the Burrow.

Hermione flooed home around 6, when Molly was beginning the dinner and bedtime routine for the kids. She was struck by how disappointed she felt, walking into the foreign house, leaving behind the familiarity of the Burrow and the kindness of the family there. Malfoy wasn't around, but she was glad for that. A groan was elicited from her as she remembered that it was her night in the spare bed, and she muttered complaints under her breath as she stomped to the guest bath in the hallway. 

Her mind wandered as she was in the shower and, realising she hadn't brought a towel, she dried herself off quickly with her wand. She was combing her hair through with her fingers as she caught sight of a small contented smile on her face. It came with a feeling of comfort and ease that was missing when she had first arrived this evening. The shower had brought with it the relaxation needed for her to realise this really was her home. 

Again, it was a mixture of pleasant and unsteadying. She decided to settle on the pleasant nature, and also used this as a learning opportunity, as always. The zen mode from a calming shower was an easy reference she could use to try to capture that feeling and get information she may need. 

Easier said than done.

* * *

Malfoy still wasn't around when she went downstairs to find dinner. Feeling better after the day and the shower, Hermione decided to cook something nicer. She prepared a nice roast (reading more of her book while it was in the oven) and sat down to enjoy it.

Hermione hadn't been alone for so long in a while; living at Hogwarts, one didn't get a moment's rest. But she was an only child, and her parent's started trusting her alone at home from the age of 9. She was enjoying the solitude, though by the end of dinner she decided she may not have minded Harry or Ron there to keep her company.

She sealed the remainders in a container and put it in the fridge (either for Malfoy or for lunch). That morning she had stowed some spare pyjamas in the dresser of the spare room, and she changed, and laid in the bed. 

The mattress was quite uncomfortable, she tried several positions and ultimately was rolled into the sagging middle. She tried to fall asleep, exhausted after a day of chasing after two toddlers, but the whole situation still weighed on her mind. She had tried to act normal today, to enjoy and relax, but Hermione was still 12 years from her present, and married to... She couldn't bring herself to think it. 

Sure, he had given her good advice yesterday, but only after snubbing her at work! Well, he had come home with food, but again, hadn't been very nice! And that kiss! Hermione blushed in the dark room, despite herself, mentally chastising herself for even bringing it up again. It was a non-kiss, a move to annoy her, and it had worked, but it also had changed the way--

No. She refused to finish that thought. Malfoy was mean, and bigoted, and not at all attractive. She would never be attracted to him. She must have been coerced to marry him, maybe blackmailed. Maybe this was all a bad dream.

Hermione sighed in frustration, feeling like no parts of her mind were in agreement anymore, and she slowly drifted off to a fitful sleep.

* * *

The next morning she woke before her alarm spell, got ready and ate breakfast with time to spare, remaining calm. By the time she should be at work, she pictured her office and imagined she did this every day, and apparated there.

At her office, she tried to breath deeply. She remembered the metaphor of the first day of school, that Monday had felt like. Well, now it was the second day. She at least recognised her desk and assistant. But it was hard, normally when starting classes, Hermione had already read and memorised the reference material. The reference material! Of course! Hermione had a big bookcase lining the wall behind her desk. As she scanned the titles, her new theory was confirmed; they were all relevant, she probably used them often to consult. Hermione grabbed one titled Modern Magickal Artefacts and their Historical Precedents to start off with, and started reading. 

It was quite interesting work actually, and she was soon three books in, digesting all the information, and her stomach rumbled loudly. Hermione glanced at the clock, surprised to see it was already 3:00pm but not surprised at this having happened, as she often lost track of time because of books. Her memo tray had some more notes in it, but her assistant must have been used to this absorbed Hermione, because she was working away at her desk, paying no mind to her boss. 

Hermione stood up to stretch her legs, and explored the hall, looking for a canteen or kitchen to get a bite to eat. She found a mess room of sorts with some biscuits and teabags, so she grabbed a mug from the shelf, magicked some water from her wand, boiled it with a heating spell, and dropped in a teabag. She tucked a biscuit in her mouth and made her way back to the office.

She spent the remainder of the day choosing some reading to take home, and organising the files. She grabbed the memos she had received since Monday and decided to decipher them at home. She packed up her bag, said goodbye to her assistant, and thought of home, zipping back in no time as her body knew what to do.

Malfoy was already home, and reading in an armchair. He looked up at her.

"Hi," he said shortly, turning his attention back. Well, it was progress, at least he wasn't ignoring her. She took off her shoes and put her bag next to the sofa, getting out her research materials for work.

"Hello, Malfoy," she replied amiably. She took out the memos and set to work deciphering them, using spells to find names in files, or references to abbreviations in books. Malfoy looked up to watch her as she started this process. She pointedly ignored his eyes as he followed her and her wandwork, his expression neutral. 

" _Verboreperium_ JS!" she incanted at the file. As the parchment in the file fluttered to the end, laying useless with no result, Malfoy spoke up.

"JS, that must be James Salcriss. He's in my department," Malfoy said calmly, moving his eyes back to his page to reinstate his careless manner.

"Oh." Hermione said. She thought for a moment, brow furrowing, and then continued, "If you know more than me, and we work in the same place, you should be helping me." Her tone was not accusatory, more matter-of-fact.

"It's not my fault you can't remember how to do your job..." Malfoy said, his neutrality fading away to antipathy for the first time in some days. "Just because you're too high-strung to figure it out!" 

Hermione huffed. "That's not fair. In a position where one is superior, one should use their position and resources in order to help their fellow humans, recognising the privilege that they have! It is not acceptable to blame those in inferior circumstances for their own lot in life, over which they likely have little control!" 

Malfoy raised his eyebrows and did not respond. He turned back to his book, but it was obvious he was ruminating on her words. She started putting the papers back in order to continue her search, when he said, "Okay. That's an interesting way of seeing the situation, and I'm willing to accept this perspective for the matter at hand. Let's go through your memos together."

He sat at the other side of the sofa she was on and started to go through the ones where she had marked the unknown phrases with red ink. Hermione hid a smile, and they went through them together, figuring out the different terms and meanings of the messages. A couple of hours later, they had deciphered most of the meanings of what the messages said. It was mostly mundane, some requests for work, and even if she knew what they meant, it didn't mean she knew what to do with them. But it was a start. 

When dinnertime came around, Malfoy confessed he only knew how to make sandwiches. 

"I've always had house elves!" he insisted defensively.

Hermione sniggered at him, before the idea that this meant he expected her to cook shut her up.

"But you can make sandwiches?" she replied coolly, raising her eyebrow at him.

"Well, I'm not an idiot. Anyone can make a sandwich."

He had a point. Hermione rolled her eyes at him and went to the kitchen to see what she could make quickly. She made them beans on toast, which Malfoy wrinkled his nose at, but said nothing (obviously realising he was in no position to complain). After a few bites, however, he was obviously enjoying it.

"What, never had baked beans?" she teased.

"No, actually."

"What? How are you British?"

"Mother said baked beans are for poor people." Malfoy shrugged as if this was a normal comment for someone to make. Hermione gaped at him, but also started to realise how much his parentage was responsible for his personality. 

When she was cleaning up (yes she was cleaning up yet again), Malfoy spoke up tentatively.

"I'm sure you got a letter or two from Pansy?"

Hermione thought back to Saturday. "Yeah, couldn't make sense of much of it, let alone why Pansy is owling me."

"Well, she is my friend, so if we're married, I guess she's your friend too." He went on, "Apparently there's a dinner party."

After Hermione still didn't respond, scourgifying the plates, he again insisted, "Tomorrow night. We're both invited."

Hermione stopped what she was doing and turned around. "You can't be serious."

"What's so unbelievable about a dinner party?"

"What's unbelievable is you expect us to go!"

He snorted, but then pressed, "These are our friends. I want to see them. You should come, too."

Not in the mood to argue any longer, and thinking of the help he had given her this afternoon, she relented. "Okay, we'll go."

Malfoy smirked. Or was it a smirk? It almost looked like... but no, it couldn't be... was Malfoy genuinely smiling?

He scourgified the table and charmed the broom to sweep the floor, which Hermione counted as progress, and he walked to the stairs, hopefully on his way to the guest bed. After the day of vigorously learning how to do her job, and how to get along with Malfoy, she needed the big comfortable bed to sleep in. 

Malfoy stopped on the first stair, turning back to her. "Call me Draco, though."

Hermione stopped, looking up at him shocked, "What?"

"At the dinner party, call me Draco. Most of my friends do. It'll be weird if you call me Malfoy, especially if you are one."

"Oh, right." Hermione said, blushing, though she didn't know why. He turned around and went to sleep, and Hermione had to consciously look away from his retreating form.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, you can't say she isn't trying...   
> Thanks for reading, and kudos'ing and commenting, and it's really amazing to believe anyone is even giving this a second glance!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Malfoys attend a dinner party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still trying to learn what a good chapter length is, so any notes on that will be helpful!

Hermione was probably nowhere near functioning the way she should at work, but she was clever and a quick learner, and had at least achieved a level of knowledge where she had a semblance of what she was meant to do. She put off the work where she had no idea, she hedged where she could, and sometimes her deep-brain kicked in and helped her out. So in general, she felt confident she was performing well enough at work that it wouldn't cause her issues, unless it continued longer.

Which she really hoped it wouldn't. Hermione was treating this as a short-term situation, but really a better part of the week had taught them things about this present, but nothing about the past that led them here, and how to get back. She resolved to dedicate the entire weekend to that. In the meantime, the longer she studied and worked in this position, the more she would learn and be able to do a good job, so it was just a matter of time until she caught up.

Hermione spent the day enjoying learning new things and making tea from her own office to avoid meeting other people, an undercurrent of dread running through her for the evening plans.

* * *

Malfoy knocked impatiently on the door, but Hermione was still deciding between two sets of earrings. She had tried to dress like what she thought a 28-year-old would wear, not what she felt comfortable in. Looking at the outfit she had chosen, her initial thoughts were that she looked very old and maternal, but when she took her bun down and let her hair flow, she saw that she looked nice. Hermione was wearing a emerald green dress robes with a scoop neckline. She decided on small silver earrings, and a small matching pendant on a thin silver chain. She put on some heels that looked great with the dress, but after a couple of laps around the room choosing a handbag, she realised she couldn’t walk in them, and switched to some simple flats.

Finally, when they had only a few spare minutes in order to make it on time, she emerged from the bedroom. Malfoy took one look at her and said nothing, turning away and checking his watch. He was wearing a nice plain dark grey robes that brought out his eyes. Malfoy grabbed her arm and side-along apparated her to the house address from the invitation.

They arrived a nice well-kept bungalow, outside an immaculate hedge with an ornate wooden gate. Hermione hesitated outside the gate.

She tapped her feet and fidgeted nervously, saying, “We don’t know who will be here! This was a mistake. Let’s turn around and tell them that I got sick.”

Malfoy softly took her arm and guided her through the gate and up the path. “We can’t just bail. These are our friends and they’ve been planning it out for a while. Just relax and let the back of your brain take care of the information you need. I’ll help if I can.”

Hermione looked at his face as he marched forward, wary of his gentleness. “You better act politically correct. You can’t make inappropriate comments or say anything mean about me. They weren’t funny at sixteen, but they are going to be totally rude at this age. And no one likes to hear married couples fight…”

“Really? I was just gonna come clean- You know, tell everybody that we both don’t remember anything since we were sixteen and we hate each other's guts? Ask them why we would end up together, how this hellish nightmare is real?” Malfoy’s tone was lighthearted, but the words still stung.

"What? Really? We're going to tell them?" she sputtered out, shocked. The idea felt wrong, but she didn't have a good reason to refute it.

"No! We're not going to tell a bunch of people we don't know if we can trust that we're in a vulnerable state! Who knows who's in there, or who they have become since we knew them last? Maybe we can get someone into our confidence, but not yet." His voice was insistent, and stern, but the heat was not directed at her.

"I agree. Let's keep it to ourselves, at least for now. Just... be cool! Okay?” Hermione insisted. Malfoy scoffed in reply. This was going to be a long night. They walked up the path to the front door and rapped at the door. Pansy opened it, wearing casual blue robes.

“Wow. Hermione. You look… great!” Pansy said, smiling. Hermione’s heart dropped as she looked at the people gathered on sofas. She was way overdressed. Everyone was in casual robes. Malfoy still fit in, but in her jewellery and dress robes, she looked like she was attending a gala when this looked more like a hangout. Magazines had steered her wrong on what this dinner party was. And why were they so old? Hermione had to remind herself that she was old, too.

She greeted the hostess by saying “Hello! Thanks!”

Malfoy chimed in with a smooth lie, “Hi, Pansy, yes, she looks lovely. We just got back from a function at work.” He guided Hermione past the threshold and shook hands with the other guests, pulling them into half hugs, “Theo! Ernie! How's it going?”

Hermione tried not to look shocked, just smiling and finding a spot among the people. Malfoy came and stood behind her, a hand on her back. She kept her mouth shut, not really understanding the conversations about some quidditch teams, things at work, people’s parents, people’s kids. Malfoy was able to contribute a word here and there, which surprised her. It struck her just how much more of a zen mind he had to be able to access the hidden information so easily. Her stress over coming here in the first place and then her outfit ramped up her anxiety, making it almost impossible to access the state of mind she needed. As she fretted over trying to recognise people that had aged a decade or remember anything about their lives at this point in time, her brain started to shut down completely. Most everyone in the room (about 8 people) continued on with the conversations they were having before they arrived, interspersed with one more couple arriving (they weren’t the only ones late!). One of the women sitting close to her, which she now recognised as Daphne Greengrass, suddenly turned to Hermione, smiling.

“So! How’s work going? I heard you’re expanding?” Hermione choked, she had no idea what to say. She tried to sputter out something coherent.

“Yeah… We...more… yes.” She failed. Miserably. Expanding could mean anything, and Hermione didn’t know what about their department could be expanding!

“How are your kids?” Hermione asked on a whim, suddenly regretting her decision. If this woman didn’t have kids, that question was awful.

“Oh, they’re great! A handful, like always, but this year there are some great ones!” Daphne smiled at her and Hermione had to keep her mouth from dropping open. This year? Did this lady just drop kids every year and get rid of them while she could? Was she a foster mother? She tried to keep her face clear of judgement, not wanting to ostracise a potential friend. Although, why was she trying to keep these friends? They were mostly Slytherins that had paid her no attention in school except to maybe glare at her when she was awarded House points. Why was she trying to keep the job she had, and stay with the husband she had? Why was she trusting future-hers decisions? They could be awful! She could be hating her life right now, and Hermione was trying to keep it all the same! Hermione stood up abruptly, turning from Daphne, to whom she still hadn't replied, and stomped over to Pansy.

“A glass of water please,” Hermione said tersely.

“Oh! In the kitchen, help yourself,” Pansy looked at her, surprised, frowning. Hermione paced into the kitchen, grabbing a glass from a drying rack next to the sink and filling it up with water. She heard the conversations in the other room die out a little as people watched her walk out so dramatically, and, Hermione was sure, they began whispering about her. She heard Malfoy say, “I’ll be right back,” and he appeared by her side.

“What the fuck was that?” he asked her, keeping quiet.

Hermione whispered back emphatically. “We shouldn’t have come! I have no idea what’s going on, and I don’t know why we’re pretending otherwise! Why did we come?”

“Look. Just calm the fuck down. I’ll help you. Pansy runs a tailoring shop in Oxford Market. Daphne teaches arithmancy at Hogwarts.” _Oh._ “Your closest friend here is Tracy Davis, you should probably go over and say hi at some point.” Tracy Davis? She had a dim recollection of a small girl with dark hair in their year at Hogwarts, a Slytherin, but no other details. “We can leave if you want, but I was hoping you could talk to Tracy about when we moved here. Like finding out whether we brought a lot of extra stuff like maybe _books_... _trinkets_... would be helpful.”

Hermione took a deep breath, feeling a little calmer and, well, grateful. It felt odd having Malfoy there to help her, but also good. She smiled at him shakily.

They both turned to look as Pansy walked in.

“Is everything okay?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Hermione replied, “just had a long day.” She smiled at Pansy.

“Well, we’re sitting down for dinner, if you guys are ready.”

Hermione sat next to the Tracy Davis, and Malfoy sat beside her. Pansy served the food and Hermione tried to strike a brave face, turning to Tracy and pretending this stranger was a close friend, like Ginny.

“Hi! What’s up? Sorry I haven’t gotten a chance to chat with you yet!” Hermione smiled consolingly.

“Oh, it’s alright.” Hermione was shocked to hear an American accent from Tracy. She didn't remember that from school. “Was everything alright in the kitchen?”

Hermione nodded, using Malfoy's lie from earlier, “Yeah, I had a long day at work, and then the thing after work, and my blood sugar dropped all of a sudden, and I needed water.” Daphne caught her eye from across the table and smiled sympathetically.

Tracy, realising Hermione didn’t really want to talk, took over and chatted about her work, and her house, and her kid that was in preschool. Hermione wondered how to change the subject to something that happened a long time ago.

“And she can tie her shoes by herself as of two weeks ago! It's awesome, but she's growing up so fast!” Tracy said, smiling.

“Yeah, it’s crazy how things change. Remember when Ma- Draco and I first moved here?”

Tracy laughed and went along with it, “Yeah, you’ve told me. I’m glad you bought the house. That old flat was practically bursting.”

“Yeah, the house is great.” Hermione’s smile was thin. Every sentence was so cryptic for someone with no memory.

"Did you ever see... Have I ever shown you this disc from a divination book, like a compass, with a part that spins, like a top?"

Tracy frowned at the sudden specificity. "Why? Was it something with work? Or something with sentimental value?"

"Yeah, something like that. It was something I found at Hogwarts in sixth year and I've been wondering where it got to."

"Ah, hm." Tracy thought for a moment as she took some bites of her pudding. "No, I can't say that I remember anything like that. We weren't mates in sixth year yet, and I can't remember you showing me anything like that at your home, or seeing it when I helped you unpack."

 _She helped me unpack?_ Hermione thought. That's a good friend.

"Oh, no worries then. Just something I was wondering about." She grinned at her new friend and continued to ask Tracy safe questions.

After the dinner, it seemed the party would retire to the sitting room again to play games and chat. Hermione whispered in Malfoy's ear that she would prefer to return home. She felt bound to him in a way that she hadn't before, even after finding out they were married, because this truly was a situation of them versus the world. When they'd go home, it would be back to two separate people, but at this party, they were a unit, and she felt comfortable leaning against him, grabbing his sleeve and bringing her mouth close to his ear. He nodded at her, and gallantly gave their regrets.

"Ah, Pansy, lovely as always, but after a day of work, and the work event, we're smashed. We better go home to get some sleep if we'll be able to make it to work tomorrow," he said with a good-natured chuckle. Pansy smiled and thanked them for coming, and they disapparated.

* * *

That night it was Malfoy’s turn in the bedroom again. Hermione grabbed fresh pyjamas from the wardrobe and got ready in the bathroom in the hallway. She walked into the barren guest room, and got on top of the bed, already feeling back-aches coming. Being nearly thirty meant her body was breaking down, and not used to the way she treated her body, feeling sixteen. She tossed and turned a couple of times before acting on an idea that had been forming in her head. 

She knocked on the door to the bedroom, and heard Malfoy shout an incoherent reply. When she opened the door, she saw he was brushing his teeth, wearing boxers and an undershirt. 

“Wahup?” Malfoy asked, toothbrush in mouth. 

“That bed is really uncomfortable.” Malfoy gave her a look that suggested that he knew. “We’re adults.This is a really big bed… I was wondering if we could share. You know, you on your side, and me on mine.” Malfoy spit into the sink and looked at her, leaning against the counter and saying nothing. “You know, we are married.” 

Malfoy shrugged, “No need to convince me. That’s fine.” He finished washing out his mouth and Hermione walked to the bed, hugging her chest. Once she was snuggled between the comfy silk sheets, she was happy she took the risk. Malfoy got into the bed and turned off the lights. Hermione got goose pimples; he wasn’t close enough to touch, but knowing they were sharing the same sheets was odd, that if she just moved her leg over she would graze his. She tried to pretend it was her night and she was sleeping alone but she could hear him breathing. As he shifted onto his side, Hermione could smell him again, that heady scent that kept confusing her, that made her excited, made her want to stick her nose in his chest and hold him close. She started to doubt this decision.

She tried to relax, reminding herself this bed was way more comfortable. She concentrated on her breathing, and fell asleep.

She woke up fitfully cold, and noticed Malfoy had stolen all the covers. It was a cold night, and she didn’t know if they had the radiators on. Oxford didn’t have Octobers like Scotland did, so she hadn’t noticed a chill yet. But now, sleeping bare, she was freezing. Hermione tugged on the duvet, but it barely budged from Malfoy’s strong grip. She moved more to the middle, trying to get more coverage, and then tugged again. He rescinded his grip this time and she wrapped it around herself, trying to get warm. She fell back uneasily into a sleep, but, getting warm, slept tranquilly til morning.  


The alarm went off at early; Hermione 's first thought was that she didn’t want to get up, because she was so warm. The next, almost immediate thought she had was that she couldn’t get up, because Malfoy’s arms were holding her. Holding her tightly. Hermione struggled a bit, but his grip got stronger. 

“Malfoy!” she hissed at him. “Malfoy, get off me. I have to go to work!”

Malfoy stirred then, relinquishing his grip on her. “Whazgoingon?” he asked sleepily. Suddenly he drew back, moving away from her, yelling, “Merlin!” Hermione turned to look at him and he looked indignant but embarrassed, rubbing at his eyes. He checked his clock. 

“That was my alarm. I don't think you wake up for another hour.” Malfoy got up and went into the bathroom, shutting the door and leaving Hermione in darkness to wonder about what just happened. She decided given that he had stolen her covers in the night, having him provide warmth wasn’t the worst thing ever. No one could blame her for cuddling with her husband. _Her enemy_ , a small voice inside her insisted. But it was harder to think of him in that light after the way he had stood for her at the dinner party. Hermione tucked the covers around her and tried to get warm and fall back asleep as Malfoy got ready for his day. His smell invaded her senses and the memory of being cuddled safely between his arms made it so she couldn’t get comfortable again. Giving up, Hermione got up and grabbed some clothes and went to the guest bathroom to get ready. 

Hermione ran downstairs to see if Malfoy was having breakfast already, and found he already left. She felt disappointed and told herself it was because he had already put away the bread, and she had to take it back out again. Hermione spent the morning slowly eating breakfast, musing about the pervading feeling of comfort she had woken with.


	6. Chapter 6

When she arrived home after work, Malfoy was already there, going about his business. She silently put her work things away and went upstairs to change into more comfortable clothes. When she came down, he was on the couch reading, and she prepared a cup of tea. It was strange to think they were so good at living around each other, staying out of each other's way. But then again, hadn't they done that for years at Hogwarts? When Harry and Malfoy weren't directly in contention, she and him mostly pretended the other didn't exist, aside from some glares and sneers. 

But it was different because they were sharing a living space. It was different because they were supposed to be married. She supposed part of this dance they were doing was because it wasn't clear where they stood. On one hand, they were still arguing and he was still a git, he was still prejudiced against her kind and she was still a know-it-all who was too easily infuriated by him. On the other hand, they had decided to work together to get home, and there had been small moments of them getting along which threw a different light on their supposed enemy status. 

Remembering his hand on her back, his acceptance of her as his wife at the party, coming to get her and help her out, and how, when she wanted to leave, he apparated them out of there right away? It was hard to reconcile that Malfoy with the one who sneered at her and whose family was completely against people with her circumstance of birth. 

She almost wanted to say, let's put all that aside and start again, on the right foot, but it was quite hard to forget their whole history. Hermione decided instead to portray a neutral and amiable front, but keep herself protected and not let herself get vulnerable yet. She would need more evidence to forgive him and really open up. Hermione realised with a start that she wanted him to, she wanted him to continue to show he was trustworthy, she wanted the possibility to get close to him more.

That unsettled her.

"I've been writing some drafts for the letters we can owl," Malfoy interrupted her thoughts, and she looked down at the mug in her hand, forgotten as she got lost in her thoughts.

"Letters for what?" She asked, sipping on the tea. Now it was the perfect temperature for easy drinking.

"To send to the bookstores. I think it's best if you sign it, instead of me, in case the book is involved in Dark magic," Malfoy said.

"Hm. Okay, that make sense," Hermione said, walking over to the couch to pick up a draft and read through it. It was interesting to think he was discriminated against also, albeint in a different way. She skimmed through the letter-- it was a professional request for the book, written from a collector's point of view. "This looks good, I think adding to a collection is more innocuous than if we were to say we wanted to practice the magic. And a collector is more likely to receive the book with the object, if it's part of it."

Malfoy hummed and looked pleased, in that his face cleared of frowns for once, and the set up his lip turned up slightly. Together, they wrote the letters, Hermione signing them, and addressed them to the various bookshops they knew. 

Hermione spoke up after a while in companionable silence, caught up in their work. "I was thinking about what you said last night, before the dinner."

"What exactly?" He immediately looked defensive, his guards back up. His body language was tense, and he frowned at her, obviously expecting a fight.

"About telling Pansy and them what's going on. Obviously I don't want to tell her, or those people I don't remember, but I think maybe we could ask for help to other people, people we trust. It's not like they'll think we're crazy-- this is perfectly plausible time-travel magic." Malfoy listened attentively, relaxing, his face neutral, so she continued, "I think I'll go see Harry--" Malfoy rolled his eyes and sighed loudly-- "and you could go to someone you trust. We'd gather more ground to see people from two different places, and believe me, I don't want to put you and Harry in the same room any more than you do."

He considered her words, which she respected. Finally, Malfoy spoke, "Okay, go tell Potter. See if he knows about the book, or if he's heard of anything like this happening. Stress how it important it is that we get home." 

She nodded, and got to cooking, relying more on her magic than normal to ease the process, getting used to being able to use magic in a domestic setting. In just twenty minutes, she had a plate of bangers and mash, and she was eating it on the couch as she pored over a book for her work. Fascinating stuff, really, but of course it would be or future-her wouldn't have chosen this field out of all the things she could do.

Malfoy ate at the dinner table, reading a work of fiction, and after they had finished, he cleaned the kitchen without her asking. It was late before she had even noticed. She went upstairs to get ready for bed.

Later, Malfoy came back to the room after getting ready for bed in the hallway bathroom. Hermione didn’t say anything, accepting this tit for tat. They went to sleep with no words, having used up all their polite small talk earlier. She slept soundly that night, having flitting dreams of a bird flying through a forest with thick branches, finally bursting forth over a meadow.

Hermione woke with Malfoy spooning her again. But this time, she could feel his erection on her ass. When she tried wiggling out of the way, he pressed harder against her, his hand squeezed her breast, and he sighed erotically into her neck. 

"Malfoy! Get off of me!” Hermione hissed. Malfoy let out a strangled noise at being woken so crudely, and disentangled himself from her. “Fuck!” he said. He grabbed a pillow and held it over his crotch. “It’s fucking nature, okay? You can’t expect me to get into bed with you and...that body, and not have my body subconsciously react. You should be flattered.” he sneered at her and for half a second, she felt that it was her fault. 

Then she stood up. “What? No. No. That was inappropriate. Sure, I might have let it go, I understand your point about b-bodies just being bodies.” She blushed a little, thinking of her own reaction she kept having to his smell. “But blaming it on me? Just a quick apology would have made it all right, but you just made it horribly worse.” She grabbed a dressing gown and stomped out of the room, going to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. 

Malfoy took a long time upstairs, not coming down even for breakfast, as the morning sped away. Finally he came down, looking nice in black robes with wine-coloured trimming. He grabbed his billfold and at first it seemed like he was going to just walk out. Then he turned, and, approaching her slowly, looking her in the eyes intensely, said, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for freaking out. I knew I messed up and I didn’t have any control over it so I was just covering my ass. I hope you have a good day.” He gave her a light kiss on the cheek and left. 

Hermione was left perplexed. 

* * *

Hermione stepped out of the fireplace into a large airy flat, with dark wood flooring, and a plush grey sofa. A white cat wound around her ankles as she walked towards the whining chatter of children. Ginny rushed in from an adjoining room to greet her. 

"Hermione, hello! We were so happy to hear that you were coming!" Ginny gave her friend a hug and beamed at her. Ginny had her hair long and in a braid down her back, with plenty of stray hairs sticking out around her face. Her face had filled out more and matured. Overall though, it was her same friend from last Friday in Hogwarts, with 12 years in between.

"Hi Ginny, I can't tell you how good it is to see you," Hermione said, barriers in her that she didn't know she had built already breaking down in the presence of her close friend and roommate. 

They headed in to the kitchen where Harry was trying to feed Albus as James ran around with a dinosaur toy. Her friend looked happy but frazzled, his hair cropped short and his glasses updated to silver frames. He looked more peaceful than she had ever seen him, and realised all the trouble they were currently in the middle of, in her sixth year, was behind him. She was overwhelmed with an irrational jealousy.

"Hi Hermione!" he waved from the table as he continued trying to wrangle the squirmy toddler. James came up and gave her a hug around the leg and smiled up at her, little dimples charming his young face. She sat down at the table and Ginny got her a mug of tea and a plate of digestives. No small talk was even necessary as the kids took up all of their parent's attention and entertained their guest sufficiently. 

Finally Albus was done eating and his dad wiped his face down, and the kids were happy to play with blocks together in the other room where Ginny could still watch them. Ginny and Harry helped themselves to some biscuits and tea and looked at Hermione.

"So, Hermione, what's new?" Harry asked as he blew on his tea to cool it down.

"Well, I've got something to tell you," she said, suddenly very nervous, "I need some help."

"Oh, god, Hermione, does this have anything to do with Harry hearing from you last week?" Ginny said, her face serious, but excited drama glittering in her eyes.

"What? Oh, yes, or, well, not what you think." 

"So you didn't cheat on Draco and wake up in another house with no memory?!" she interrogated passionately. Hermione glanced at the boys but they paid no mind to their dramatic mother.

"No, Ginny. No, Malfoy and I are...still married," Hermione replied.

Harry's eyes narrowed at that. "Malfoy?" he asked, catching that detail, "So there is trouble in paradise."

"Harry, Ginny... I travelled here from the past. Last week, on Friday, I was in the library, at Hogwarts, and I was sixteen. And on Saturday, I woke up... here." Hermione explained.

Harry and Ginny were quiet, their faces inscrutable, analysing this new information.

"Wow, Hermione... just, wow," Ginny said.

"Time travel, huh?" Harry said, his brow furrowed and his mouth on a slant. 

"Yeah, and I find out I'm with Malfoy? Like, that makes no sense! And I don't know what to do, or how to get back, and I need your help." Her secret now out, she deflated.

There was another moment of silence, and she sipped her tea.

"But that's not usually how time travel works, right? If you use a time-turner, there's two versions of you in a time at once. But if you're here... where's the you we know?" Harry asked slowly. 

Hermione balked. She hadn't even thought of that. Where was the Hermione she had replaced?

"Why haven't you gone to St. Mungoes?" Harry continued, "Couldn't this just be amnesia?"

"No, Harry! Malfoy also time-travelled with me! And I was looking at this book.... Look, magic is weird and there's many different forms; obviously this is different from time turner magic. See, this is why I need your help!"

"Yeah, of course we'll help you, Hermione. Sorry, I didn't mean to set you off, I'm just trying to cover all our bases," Harry said gently. It was weird seeing him in this older self, he made her feel like he was her father.

"Wow, Hermione! Draco doesn't remember either, huh? Well, he was a real git at sixteen, I can't say I envy you having to live with him now!" Ginny cackled.

"So you did before? How did you let this happen, why did you let me marry him? You must hate having to have him around!"

Harry and Ginny had a long loud laugh at that, with Hermione glaring at them, huffing at being excluded from the private joke. The toddlers also ran over, hearing their parents having fun, and climbed onto their laps and laughing too, James stealing a biscuit from Harry's lap and Albus tugging on his mom's hair. 

"Good thing not to let them outnumber you," Hermione said slyly. Ginny just grinned at her with the dangerous look in her eye that Hermione knew too well.

"So, how can we help?" Harry asked, around the climbing children. 

"Well, there's a book I was looking at, and an object in the book." Hermione explained what had happened and what to look for.

"Yeah, I can ask around subtly," Ginny said, and Harry added, "And I can ask someone at the Department of Mysteries about that compass thing."

"Thanks, you two." Hermione said, relaxing. It felt normal, with Ginny representing the Weasleys instead of Ron, and the two of them were sweet to watch with the children, and it made her feel very calm. She found herself thinking of Draco, and the way he had looked at her this morning when he had apologised, and his hair falling back after he ran his hand through it while reading, and his hand on her breast this morning...

She snapped back to the moment, slapping herself mentally for the thoughts she just had. Hermione had to get it together. She was going to get back to her present, and Malfoy would just be the prat he always was again, the Slytherin who bullied her and her friends. She couldn't be having these thoughts. Hermione had to work to steel herself against these changing feelings, she had to work up her anger against him as a cloak to protect herself. 

They chatted a bit more, about safer things, catching up with what was going on with Ron (single, living and travelling throughout Ireland, working with the Irish chapter of Charlie's rescue) and various other classmates, as well as discussions of wanting to put the toddler's through some schooling as they got older. After a while, it was time for the kids to take a nap. Harry took them to their room to lay them down, leaving Ginny and Hermione alone to talk in the kitchen. 

"It's so weird to think you don't remember anything. So much has happened..." Ginny said, looking out the window thoughtfully. 

"Yeah, well I won't miss it, I'll go back and live my life," Hermione was stubborn about not feeling like she was missing out on anything, that of all the things to worry about in her situation, that wasn't one of them.

"Yeah..." Ginny replied. "Also, it's so barmy that you're sixteen. I mean, you don't look it, but your brain is. I'm older than you now!" she laughed.

Hermione chuckled as well. But she had some questions to ask her friend before Harry got back.

"Do we... do Malfoy and I-- I mean, do we seem happy together? It couldn't be a good match, but how are we not just completely tearing into each other all the time?"

Ginny looked into her eyes, and cocked her head to the side. "Draco's great for you Hermione. I know that might be hard to believe, with the one you know, before you got in there and opened him up. We like having him around. Harry was saying this morning it was a shame he wasn't able to come today..."

Hermione's eyes widened at the new information. Ginny continued, "It would be a lot easier for you to understand if you had travelled forward and he hadn't. You could see who he is now, with you. He's still the same guy, just as sarcastic, but..." she trailed off, and didn't pick back up.

Hermione couldn't believe it. Malfoy must have either undergone extensive therapy and self-improvement works, or he was being possessed. Or maybe someone was taking a polyjuice potion like Barty Crouch in fourth year. There was no way he could be sweet now, no way that he could win over Ginny and Harry after everything they had been through. She felt that turmoil from earlier, wanting to stay angry at Malfoy. She felt she was the only one left who was sane, and she had to stay stolid against the enemy. 

Harry joined them again, with the kids successfully in their beds, if not actually asleep. Hermione went back over the details of the book and what she was looking for, and tried to ignore Harry's worried looks at her. Ginny kept everything upbeat, smiling and agreeing profusely to do anything they could to help. Happy as she was to see her old friends, as she started to say her goodbyes, she was glad to be able to get out from their gazes, full of feelings she didn't even understand. She apparated back into her living room, letting out a sigh of relief on arrival.

* * *

She tucked herself into the guest room bed and was about to switch off the lights when she heard a loud crack of Malfoy arriving home downstairs. She had put a cushioning charm or two on the bed and pillow, and it was comfortable for now. They'd wear off in an hour, but it was enough to be able to fall asleep. Hermione closed her eyes and tried to concentrate on her breathing instead of the quiet noises of Malfoy going about the house. She heard the door of the main bedroom open, but no sound of it closing. There was silence for a minute or two, and then the door to the guest room was opening, the crack of light blinding her as she blinked and sat up.

"Oh, Hermione. You're here," Malfoy couldn't help but betray surprise in his voice and... relief? "Why are you in here?"

Hermione cleared the sleep out of her voice and pulled the sheets up over her thin nightshirt. "It's my night to sleep here." she said curtly.

"But you can come to bedroom," there was an unspoken 'with me'. "We can put pillows in between if you don't feel comfortable, but I'll try to stay away from you." He then added, in a classic Malfoy drawl with a smirk on his face, "but no promises."

"We're not actually married Malfoy. There's no need for us to sleep together." Hermione replied sharply. 

"Ah, right," Malfoy said, his smirk disappearing, and his face twisting into a sneer. "Let's just get back to our lives as fast as we can, where I don't have to look at you twice." 

She didn't respond and he took his cue to leave. "Well, I'm not complaining; I've got the big bed." 

Hermione was surprised he didn't slam the door with the look that was on his face as he left. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That last sentence was really a stretch of fiction for me, as someone who wears glasses I am totally blind when I'm in bed! If I was in her situation, I would have yelled "Wait! What's your face doing? Are you angry!? Are you sad?! I can't seeeee!"   
> I've yelled something to that effect many times in my life XD
> 
> Leave a comments, let me know what you all think! :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Sunday at the Malfoy home.

The next morning, Hermione groaned as she got up from the bed. Seeing the main bedroom open and empty, she ran a hot shower in the big comfortable bathroom, and rolled her shoulders, working the previous night's tensions out of her muscles. She got dressed and went downstairs, finding Malfoy studying at the kitchen table. More surprisingly, a bowl of yogurt, granola, and fruit, and a tray of bacon.

"Is this for me?" she asked. He looked over apathetically.

"Yes. I tried to make a full English, but all except the bacon was ruined," he said. "Hence the granola, since bacon alone is not a fitting breakfast."

Her cheeks tinged pink as she grabbed the bowl and put some rashers on a plate, thinking about their tense exchange the night before. Not something you'd expect to get breakfast for the next morning. She sat down next to him at the table and ate, just enjoying the morning and the food, staring at her plate or at the window. Malfoy continued to read and ignore her. When she was finished, he took her plate to the sink. She sat at the table, hands in her lap, uncertain how to continue.

Malfoy leaned back against the sink, and looked at her. "Okay, we sent those letters out, we talked to friends. I think while we wait for those to deliver, we can do our own research on time-travel, see if there's any documentation of anything like this."

She looked at him and nodded. Was this him extending the olive branch? She was the one who had been curt and rude the night before, why was he acting as if he had something to make up for? The behaviour was soothing, but she wondered if it should put her on edge instead.

"Harry thought that we had amnesia," she said.

Malfoy's eyes crinkled in amusement, though he worked to keep a stern mouth. "I went to my parents," he replied.

"Your parents!" Hermione practically yelped. She worked to calm down. "Your parents? Their judgement isn't always the best, are they really the most trustworthy?" She was, of course, speaking of the same parents who implicated their whole family into dark magic.

He looked at her sternly, "Yes, my parents. They are my family."

She had to give him that, even if she didn't agree with his choice. "Well, I bet they were happy to help you, they must hate that we're together. _Go back in time, Draco, untie yourself from this mudblood and cleanse the Malfoy name!_ " she said, in her best impression of Narcissa.

Malfoy looked shocked, and then smirked. "I don't even know where to start. First of all, don't use that word, I was 12 when I said it to you but I'm sorry about that, I should have known better. Secondly, I don't think I've ever heard you use my given name before. Thirdly, and most surprisingly, that wasn't at all their reaction... They seemed sad for the years I had lost, and they spoke highly of their daughter-in-law. They're my parents, but after talking to them yesterday, I realised I'm going through this alone."

That long speech had so many layers she didn't know if she could address any of them. The latter comment hit her hard though, it was eerily similar to thoughts she had after talking with Ginny yesterday.

Hermione said, "I can use that word, because I am a mudblood. Mudblood and proud, I say! But you're not going through this alone, Draco, I'm also here." Her tone might have been slightly bitter, but there was still the sentiment of solidarity there. That, and she had called him by his first name again, just to spite him, but it didn't feel so wrong.

"Right," he nodded and raised an eyebrow. "I guess you are."

They exchanged notes on the meetings, not talking any more about the personal aspect but just the information they had gathered, if any, and what their respective loved ones were going to do on their behalf. Malfoy's father was going to get books on the different forms of time-travel and send them over, and Narcissa was going to check the vaults for a similar object to Hermione's description. "Our vaults are full of all sorts of old and banned magical objects," Malfoy said on this point.

Hermione found an empty notebook on her desk in the office room upstairs and used it to take notes on their situation. She kept a list of what they had done or tried, another list of the places they had looked, who they had talked to. She also wrote a description of what had happened to her, before any more details were lost to fading memory, and also her notes on the use of calming and zen to accessing knowledge in her 28-year-old brain. Malfoy had gone out to get more food, and when he arrived back she showed him.

While she prepared a quick lunch for herself, a sandwich, leaving the ingredients out for Malfoy to make his own, he read through what she wrote, and she noticed him adding to it as well.

"Good idea," he said, "documentation is important, especially as this starts to become more long term."

"Thanks," she said.

"Part of me hoped that after a day or two, we would just wake up back home. But it doesn't seem like that's going to happen," he said.

She chewed her sandwich and shook her head in reply. She sat down at the table and he went over to the counter and prepared his lunch. Hermione flipped through the notebook, reading through the notes he added. Small notes for clarity, a bit on his perspective, the information he had found. He sat down beside her to eat, and she read through the list of materials his dad initially would gather for them.

She suddenly had a thought. Hermione whipped her head towards him, and eagerly said, "We can't forget to-" Hermione was cut off mid-sentence as she found her face inches from his. She hadn't noticed as she'd been engrossed in the reading, but Draco had been leaning in towards her, reading over her shoulder. His eyes were now on her, blazing with intensity. Hermione was hit with his intoxicating scent and she realised how many layers and tones his grey eyes had. She almost wasn't conscious of moving her lips towards his.

Hermione's eyes closed as their lips met. She pressed her mouth firmly to his, his smell blurring her thoughts, her loins coming to life with the touch. Draco's hand went to her hair, sliding it back, his hand grazing the back of her neck. The touch was electric and it went straight to the place between her legs. Hermione let out a strangled moan, and he nipped lightly on her lower lip in response. She tried to push her body closer to him, but they were both leaning towards each other in their chairs, so she only pushed him back.

Hermione pulled back, and they separated, panting, searching each other's eyes. She wondered if she should say something, but his lips were on hers again, and they relished in each other's touch for several more seconds. Draco's hand moved from her head onto her shoulder, and they pulled apart again.

She could tell her face was flushed, her eyes wide and bright as she looked at him, lost for words. He was staring hungrily at her lips, but when they made eye contact, he gave a little smile. She thought he might make a lewd joke or light of the situation, but he dropped his hand, turning back to the notebook.

"What do we need to add to the list?" Draco asked gently, and he put his other arm around her delicately, in a way that felt so natural to her. Hermione bit back a smile and forced her attention off his touch to recall his question.

* * *

They continued to work, the kiss unspoken between them, but they continued sharing touches on the arm or the leg. 

Suddenly, there was a large crack and the sound of a man falling onto the ground in the living room. The two of them stood up, startled, putting space between them. Hermione's eyes were wide and fearful as she approached the room, wand in hand, looking over the sofa to see who had come in.

An older Ron was finding his feet and brushing dirt off his cloak. Time had been good to him, his skin had cleared, his hair was shaggy and tousled. He had filled out his tall wiry shape with muscles and was wearing a grin that most girls would melt at.

"Hermione!" he yelled, laughing, and ran towards her for a hug. She graciously returned it, taken aback though she was.

"Er, Ron! What are you doing here?" she said, her voice muffled by his shoulder. His smell was warm and comforting, a smell that, despite the years, remained her friend's.

After he pulled back, she examined him more closely. He looked like he had come straight from chasing dragons- his hair was windswept, there was a smudge of dirt on his cheek, and his trousers were filthy. She invited him to sit, and he waved away her offer for tea.

Ron chose to sit on the floor to not smudge the furniture, leaning back against the armchair. She sat on the armchair beside him. Malfoy was hovering in the room, still unacknowledged by the surprise guest and obviously avoiding being the one to break the silence between them.

"I came as soon as I'd heard, 'Mione. Harry wrote to me. About your time-travel."

That caught Malfoy's attention and he came over to the large sofa, perching on the edge with his back ramrod straight. They now formed a semi-circle around the fireplace, with all the attention on Ron.

Hermione didn't exactly know what to say, how to respond, why he had come. "Yeah, it's mad, isn't it?" she offered, trying to lead him into a conversation.

"Yes! But wonderful!"

Hermione wondered if he had gone mad himself in the intervening years.

He laughed at her expression. "No, no, let me explain. See, back in our past, but still _your_ future, we were together." Any response Hermione might have had was caught in her throat, and he continued. "I messed it up. You are the most amazing witch on the planet, and I messed it up. I'll regret it forever, and trust me, I've tried to look for ways to time travel and change it all."

Hermione was still speechless, looking at her old friend in a whole different light. Yes, she had had thoughts of him before, fleetingly, but never suspected it would actually ever amount to anything.

Ron laughed again, delighted, and said, "But this is our chance! You're going to go back, and you can change everything! I don't care if _my_ world doesn't change, as long as I know that somewhere, in some universe, we stay together. I love you, Hermione. And you can do this for me! When you go back, tell past-me what I'm telling you, tell him not to screw it up! Tell him that you won't forgive him if he messes it up, and he'll regret it for the rest of his life. You can make sure we end up together, 'Mione, like we were supposed to." He gave her a charming crooked smile and reached for her hand.

The strangest thing about the situation was how Ron was pretending Malfoy didn't exist, and Malfoy was just watching the whole interaction with a hard look on his face. However, as she moved to take his hand, comfortable with her best friend, Malfoy jumped up from the sofa.

"Hold it right there, Weasley! That's my wife!" he growled at Ron.

Ron looked at him, frowning. "Harry told me you were also from the past. Doesn't sixteen-year-old Malfoy hate the idea of being married to her?" Hermione couldn't help but be hurt by the reminder. "Wouldn't you want this future fixed? She belongs with me."

"Don't tell me what I want or don't want," Malfoy advanced on Ron, his wand now out and in front of him. "Now, get out of my house!"

Ron raised his hands in surrender, and looked at Hermione sympathetically. "Write to me," he said, and apparated away.

Malfoy was still breathing hard, his face tight with rage, his wand still out. Hermione turned to him slowly, and he lowered it. She suddenly was overcome with laughter, and was doubled over the armchair having a fit. Malfoy sank back onto the sofa and covered his face with his hand.

"Oh, Merlin," Draco said. "What's so funny, Hermione?"

She wiped tears from her eyes and tried to calm herself down, occasionally having a fit of giggles. When she was able to look at him, she could see him suppressing a smile, as one does when laughter is contagious but they see no reason to join in.

"It's just so ridiculous, isn't it? I can't help but laugh. Nothing makes sense anymore," she said, light-heartedly. Hermione moved onto the sofa he was on and reached for his hand. He took it, and put both his hands around hers. She leaned onto his shoulder, sighing heavily. "Ron. In love with me. And I can change the future," she said, sobering suddenly. "Damn."

They spent the afternoon silent, mostly. Despite their initial reaction to reach for each other after Ron's visit, they didn't touch anymore that evening. Hermione tried to read more of her novel, but was too caught up in her own thoughts, swirling with confusion and anxiety, and guilt, and responsibility for things which had still not come to pass in her life. She felt sick in her body from all the feelings and it was impossible to concentrate. She switched to her work research but still, she found her eyes glazing at the words, a pit forming in her stomach.

Everyone understands their actions have an impact on their future, but it's another thing altogether to be confronted with it right to your face. Telling Ron what his future-self said, or even the new alternative to forgive him when his mistake came to pass, knowing how much grief it would bring her future-friend to not do so, and this future may find herself married to him instead of Malfoy. Maybe. Or, not do so, and let things play out as normal, and end up with Draco. Maybe. Of course her future had always been in her hands, but having the options so clearly laid out before her, understanding how other people's lives might be forever affected by the choices she made, put a lot of pressure on her, and she had to take an anxiety-reducing draught to have to suppress a panic attack.

Draco himself seemed in his own world, reading but chewing on his nails, which she had never seen him do, and when dusk came, despite him staring at the page, he didn't notice when the light had dimmed too much to read. Having taken the draught, she felt considerably better. She turned on the lights for him and called for food to be delivered. She went upstairs and gathered the laundry and performed the charms on a basin so it would wash itself, after failing to find a muggle washing machine she would have been more comfortable using.

When the food arrived, they served themselves and Hermione sat across from Draco. She wanted to bring up Ron's visit, to ask about his intense reaction, to thank him for standing up for her in a way, and tell him she thought it was sweet. But their conversations had only ever been neutral or worse and she didn't know how to just start complimenting him. She settled instead for a safer topic.

"What would your mum cook for you when you were little?" she asked.

"Oh, mum never cooked," he said, preparing his next bite, "the house elves did all that."

"Ah, of course. Like Dobby. I guess I was trying to forget," she said.

Draco looked at her and said levelly, "They love it, you know. Your organisation... it's got some issues. You can't tell minorities what they need, what they feel. You need to listen. Dobby isn't exactly representative, and the rest love the work they do."

Hermione chewed thoughtfully and replied, "Dobby was the first one I met..."

"Yeah, and I heard about how happy he was to be freed. But the rest of our elves were horrified, they've been scared of being freed from their work in a similar stealthy way without their knowledge. It's less like tiger from a cage, and more like being fired from a job you love, if you ask them.

She responded, "It almost hurts me to hear you say that, to think that when I thought I'd been doing good, maybe I hadn't been... Buuut, maybe I got the wrong idea with Dobby." She paused. "You're right, I need to listen to them more, and dictate what they need less. Even if it means I've done wrong in the past."

Draco nodded, satisfied, and then spoke up suddenly.

"What-" he started.

Hermione looked at him, head cocked, but he didn't immediately continue so she just continued to eat, looking at her plate, patiently waiting.

"Did you, I mean, do you have a crush on Ron, like back at Hogwarts?"

She opened her mouth to respond but he cut her off, "Never mind, I don't want to know."

She hid a smile and waited again.

"Who is he that-"

Again, he started, "I guess, can Ron really speak like that to you?"

Hermione said, "Of course. Ron can tell me anything, as a good friend, and I can react badly, as a good friend. Being friends means being able to share or ask whatever you want, but it doesn't preclude how the other will respond. I can get angry at him, and that's allowed, and we'll still be friends. "

"Yeah, like me and my friends, I guess," Malfoy said.

She scoffed. "Crabbe and Goyle your minions, telling you what's on their mind?"

He stared at her hard, "Yes. Goyle would often say things that get me very angry, and I would get very angry, and tell him off, and we would still be friends after that. But over the years he's learned to be more tactful, and I've learned to be more forgiving. Crabbe, on the other hand, is shy, and introverted. He likes to hang around me because it gets him notoriety without him having to speak up, and I try to get him out of his shell."

Hermione was surprised at this information, she had always thought of Crabbe and Goyle as identical Staffordshire terriers, backing up their master. Lackeys, or sidekicks. But she supposed relationships are often more complex than they can seem on the surface.

"So were you? Angry at Ron for what he said?" Malfoy asked.

"Not angry, I guess. It's just a lot of responsibility, a lot of pressure," Hermione said. How could she tell him that she felt she had to choose between a future with him, or a future with Ron? She left the part with him out, although it was implied, when she said, "If I do what he says, I might be married to him. If I don't, he's regretful and pining. I don't want that for my friend, but I don't know what the right choice is. It's information I wish I didn't have... Maybe when we get back, we should get a memory draught or something."

Malfoy suddenly stiffened, and she recognised his reaction at once. If they didn't remember when they got back, or took something to forget, that would put their relationship back to the hating-ignoring-glaring thing it used to be. They had made so much progress in a week, to acquaintances, or friends, it seemed terrible to throw that away.

"We would change everything with the knowledge we have. I don't know if I like that kind of power," she finished simply.

He nodded, but finished the rest of his dinner silently.

* * *

When she was finishing her nightly routine in the bathroom, Draco came in and asked if it was all right for him to stay in the bedroom that night. She assented. Hermione was already in some flannel trousers and a tee, and she finished brushing her hair and went to where he was standing in next to the bed. She wasn't sure why she had walked over, but as soon as she was close, he pulled her into him, and kissed her again.

Being reminded of this wonderful feeling, Hermione wondered how she had gone all these hours without kissing him again. Her mind exploded with good feelings and pleasure, and her mouth pushed hungrily into his. Hermione enjoyed the feelings of his strong arms wrapped around her, holding her close, and she put her arms up around his neck, her fingers twining through the hair at his nape.

Hermione licked his lips playfully and he opened his mouth for her, deepening the kiss. They caressed each other's tongues and she pulled at him, wanting more. She pushed her hips into his, moaning as the kiss and his smell and taste drove her to animalistic urges.

They broke apart, finally, and Draco kissed her head. She made a small sound of regret, but she went to her side of the bed and got in. Draco got under the duvet as well, and lay on his back, putting his arms behind his head. Hermione didn't think; she followed her instincts and nestled herself into the space under his arm, laying her head on his chest. His arm automatically came down and wrapped around her, and they both quickly fell asleep in this embrace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first time ever writing fluff! Hope it made you feel happy. :) What a weird space the beginning of a relationship is, when you kiss and things but haven't necessarily declared feelings for each other. All these FWB make those lines even blurrier! So don't be confused that she called them "friends" after they had already kissed!
> 
> Getting comments/kudos, knowing that there are people enjoying this-- wow! it's amazing and inspires me and it's just so crazy that the internet allows me to put things from my head out into the world. So thanks for reading, and I hope you have a wonderful day <3


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lost a chunk of this chapter so I had to rewrite it :( Hope it's still okay!
> 
> Lemon warning! If you don't like reading descriptions of explicit sex, skip the first part of the chapter. Everyone else, enjoy ;)

The alarm spell woke her in the dark autumn morning, and Hermione blinked into the dark room. Her head was on the pillow next to Malfoy's, her face in his neck, his arm was over her body and their legs intertwined. She breathed him in deeply, and he stirred as well at the sound, groaning and throwing his arm out to end the spell. Instead of getting up, as she expected, Draco turned his body towards her, wrapping both arms around her and pulling her close. She could feel his morning wood stiff against her belly through the thin fabric of their pyjamas.

“Good morning,” Draco said, his voice deep and sultry. He ran his hand through her hair, then gently tugged it to bring her mouth up to face his, capturing her mouth. Hermione, her mind mostly asleep and working on instinct, immediately reacted, pushing her tongue deep into the kiss, revelling in their hot bodies pressed together and his warm sweet mouth. She felt herself get wet, her need fuelled by his smell, his cock pressing against her, and his kiss.

They pulled away to catch their breath and he grabbed her breast, groping it. She moaned as the touch ran electric currents to her pussy. Hermione lay back to allow him more access, and he pushed himself up and over her, pushing up her shirt and bringing his mouth to her nipple. 

Hermione gasped, panting, “Yes, Draco!” as his mouth sucked her hard nipple, washing pleasure over her. She brought her hand to his chest and down towards his cock. Until then she had only seen him in robes, and occasionally other tops but she had no idea of his musculature until that moment. She felt his hard ridges of abdominals and suddenly she wished it were daylight and she could drink in the full effect of his body. Her other hand grasped his biceps and she almost moaned from the vision her imagination conjured at feeling his body. 

She groped him through the outside of his briefs, feeling his hard length, a large girthy cock. She licked her lips and pulled him back up to her mouth, kissing him hard and stroking his cock. He groaned and bit at her neck and ear. “Fuck, Hermione,” Malfoy said, pressing himself into her hand. 

His words made her deliciously hot. His hand left her tit and worked its way down her belly. At the elastic of her pants, he asked, “Is this okay? Do you want this?”

“Yes,” she moaned, grabbing his cock harder, and biting and sucking at his shoulder, aiming to give him a hickey. She wished again she could see his face as he groaned at her response and pushed his hand under her pants, rubbing a finger in between her labia, feeling her wetness and teasing her clit. 

“Just fuck me, Malfoy,” Hermione said. Her whole body was hot with need, and in the early morning with her sleepy mind and high animalistic drives fully away, she felt herself wet and relaxed and ready to be drilled. 

Malfoy growled, and they pulled the rest of their clothes off. He ran his cock up and down her slit, wetting himself and pleasuring her with the pressure. He slowly pushed at her pussy, and gently glided into the wet sweet cavern. 

Hermione screamed out with pleasure. Her pussy was tight around his big cock and he lowered his chest down onto hers. Their naked skin felt so good together and Draco kissed her, gently this time, kissing her lips, and running his tongue on them gently, and toying with her tongue. He let her get accustomed to his size and the feel of him in her as their bodies joined, and when Hermione humped her hips into him, asking for more, Draco smiled against her mouth and started to move in and out. 

He pulled his whole length out, and then shoved himself back in deeply, and Hermione cried out. “Merlin, yesss, don’t stop!”

Draco continued to pump into her, and Hermione could tell he was getting close. His breath became ragged and his thrusts more insistent. Hermione grabbed him close to her, moaning in his ear with the pleasure that filled her at every move, and whispered to him in a lust filled beg, “Come for me, Draco.”

His cock went deep into her pussy and he grunted, coming, slamming into her hard for a few more strokes. “FUCK yes, Hermione, fuck,” he said to her as he came down from his high, kissing her on the mouth. 

Hermione laughed gently and kissed him back. “Wow, gods that was good. Thank you, I needed that.”

Malfoy pulled out of her and grabbed his wand, cleaning them up and casting a contraception spell on her. 

“That was really fun, thanks,” he said to her, kissing her again. “Got to go to work now though!” 

“Okay,” she answered sleepily. For their first time together, it had been surprisingly not awkward. Next time, she would ask for the lights on. 

* * *

An hour and a half later, she was at work, still riding her post-coital endorphins, walking into her office.

Her assistant Nnena, greeted her. “Hermione, good morning! You’re back to normal, I see?”

“What do you mean?” Hermione asked.

Nnena replied, “Oh, because you were sick the beginning of last week, and the rest of the week you didn’t seem like yourself. Today you look way better!” Her assistant beamed.

Hermione smiled and said, “Yes, I feel better, thanks,” and went to work. _Back to normal?_ Hermione thought. Was future-her getting laid every morning? Or maybe she was just relaxed from the sex and looking more at ease. Hermione had always struggled with anxiety, and had just assumed she still did in the future. But maybe she would find some good coping mechanisms in the future... Hey, if it meant fucking Malfoy again was in the cards, she was happy to accept it. 

Hermione worked diligently the rest of the day. At one point, she reached up and caught a message flying to her straight out of the air. She read it, and quickly sent back the requested files in the span of a couple of minutes. When she was done, she paused, surprised. It was the first time since she had apparated to Oxford that first day that Hermione had acted so innately, using the knowledge in her 28-year-old head without thinking. That made her smile and she was able to access the zen mode a couple more times that day. With this newfound calm, on top of her study of the work paying off, she made quick work of her tasks.

It was nearing the end of the day when Hermione was interrupted from her concentration by hearing Nnena say, “Oh, Mr. Malfoy! Didn’t see you here all last week! Were you sick as well?” 

She looked through the doorway to see Malfoy standing at her assistant’s desk, with his cloak thrown over his arm. Nnena looked brighter than Hermione had ever seen her, reaching to her hair to smooth it down. 

“Er, yes. Much better now, though,” Draco’s smirked and winked at Hermione. Nnena nodded and gestured for him to be allowed through. 

Malfoy walked into her office and said, “I was thinking we could go to King Whorls Way, pick up some supplies.” King Whorls Way was the wizarding part of Oxford, they had found. She still hadn’t been.

“That sounds great. Let me grab my things,” Hermione said. She finished up a note she was writing and marked her place in a book, and then grabbed her bag and walked around the desk to face him. He cocked his head at her, looking deep in thought, and reached out to her.

Hermione thought he was about to stroke her cheek, but instead he put his hand on her shoulder, and apparated them to the city centre.

They arrived at the mouth of a narrow alley, and walked down to the end. It was a dead end with skips and rubbish bins, and on the back wall, over white washed brick, there was a mural of a large apple tree, with Alice from Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland standing under a branch looking up at the Cheshire Cat, who grinned from a branch. Draco stroked the cat’s whiskers with his wand, and a doorway appeared in the trunk of a tree. Draco put his hand on the small of her back, and walked her through the door. 

King Whorls Way had obviously needed to find its own niche, since most wizards would just go to London for things they needed. The Whorls was a small wizarding centre, comprising of only a few blocks of neat shops lining wide cobbled pedestrian streets. In the hub, she could see a plaza with a copper green fountain. There was a nice assortment of local wizarding cafes and shops, and a competing bank to Gringotts. 

As they walked along the street, Hermione grabbed Draco’s hand. He took it, intertwining his fingers through hers. She looked at him, blushing, to see his reaction, but he continued to look around like it was the most natural thing in the world. It felt like it, to have his warm dry palm wrapped around hers. She moved closer to him while they walked. 

A sign enchanted with a stack of tomes on it, which would occasionally fly up and open, rifling through pages, before setting themselves back on the stack, caught her eye. The bookstore took up a long corner, and was styled on the outside like a pub, with dark wood and gold lettering advertising their holdings. She pulled Draco inside immediately.

“Ms. Granger-Malfoy!” An extremely tall wizard leapt out from behind a book shelf as they walked in. “Hermione, so good to see you!” 

He walked up to her, beaming, making the shelves look unnaturally short with his height. He pulled his brown ponytail over his shoulder and gave her an elegant bow. He was dressed in a coat with tails and crisp trousers, and the shop was styled just as elegantly as he was, with sturdy, ornate bookshelves and wrought-iron mounts to show off the new releases. There was a pervading aroma of coffee . Hermione was instantly in love with the place.

The shopkeep continued to address her, “I was starting to get worried when I didn’t see you for two weekends in a row!” He laughed, a light breathy chitter.

“Oh, yeah, er,” Hermione started. She began to seize up again, like at the dinner party-- the same anxiety of not knowing what was going on, of being stuck in a situation with no information and no way out. Draco squeezed her hand, and she breathed in the smell of coffee and books, and relaxed, saying, “Good afternoon, Pierre, yes, sorry, we have just become very involved in a personal project as of late!”

Pierre nodded graciously, saying, “Ah, you Malfoys, always up to some scheme or another. I wouldn’t wish for anything less! Well, let me know if there’s anything you need!” Hermione beamed at him, and started to look at the books on display at the entrance. When she looked back up, he was gone. 

Draco leaned in to talk to her in a low voice, and said, “It’s getting easier, isn’t it?” 

Hermione bit her lip and said, “Well, it is just about the right frame of mind, isn’t it?” 

He gave her a rare smile, and they looked at the new books. The two of them explored the tomes in the store, and Malfoy kept coming over to her to hear her comment on a new book about a new potioning technique, or new uses for old spells. He was uncharacteristically amazed and animated about the changes that had happened in the wizarding world in the last 12 years. She found herself staring more at him, at his hands gesturing and his hair falling into his face, the small flush creeping over his pale face, than at the books. She forced herself to look away and comment on the text he was showing. 

They bought a translation book for Olde English, as well as at least personal four books each- they forced themselves to pare down to the bare minimum- and a couple books on time travel, one on the theories behind the magic, and one on irregular instances of time travel. Hermione led them and their laden bags to the adjoining cafe which provided all the delicious smells. 

Hermione sat at a small table while Draco ordered tea and cakes for them, and sat down across from her. He grabbed his tote and was sorting through his purchases, and Hermione took the opportunity to watch his dark grey eyes appraise the books, flit up and down in analysis. She realised it was how he had watched her for much of their first week. 

He looked up and caught her watching him. He put his bag down and turned to her seriously. 

“What is it?” he asked, his voice guarded, “Are you mad about this morning? Do you think it was a mistake?”

Hermione’s mouth fell open in shock. “Where every did you get that idea?” she said.

“Well, we only kissed yesterday, and so you probably think I moved too fast, or you feel used, or-”

She cut him off with her hand. “It was consensual, completely, and fun. C’mon, Malfoy, I know I come across as uptight for certain things, but I am a modern witch, after all,” she said. He was silent and she watched him again, wondering how he had jumped so quickly to defending himself against her. 

“Maybe I’ve been too harsh on you in the past. Too quick to anger. I’ll try to be better for that. I can see you’re not the same boy from school,” she said.

Malfoy scoffed, “It’s been a week and you think I’m someone different? Probably you never saw who I actually was. Or you just like this older Draco,” he said, smirking to show he was joking, and stroking his stubbled jawline. 

A small blonde witch brought over their drinks and cakes, and their conversation flowed more freely, about their books, and the quality of the patisseries and about the atmosphere of the Whorls versus Diagon Alley. Malfoy grabbed her hand from across the table and Hermione took it, smiling as she sipped her tea and felt a deep sense of peace. 

* * *

Their plates empty and their tea long forgotten, Hermione's gaze drifted happily to the windows. 

"Oh, my!" she said. The sun had been near the horizon when they started their tea, and now it was completely night outside. "We should get home," she said to Draco. He nodded and took her bags, offering his arm to her. 

They strode out into the brisk evening. Hermione, not knowing she would be out so late, hadn't brought an appropriate cloak, or even a scarf. Draco noticed her slight shiver, and cast a warming aura charm around them, and they were both enveloped in a light violent sheen, and Hermione was immediately comfortable again. "Thank you," she said to him. 

Instead of walking back the way they came, they strode towards the plaza in the centre. Streetlamps had appeared to line the walkway. Each one was adorned with a small woodland creature which was enchanted, so on one, an iron sparrow hopped around atop the lamp, on another a red squirrel ran up and down the pole, both made of the same material. Draco looked at her and smiled. 

“You just did this little noiseless gasp,” he said, cocking his brow. “What’s got you so astonished?”

“The lamp posts. They’re so beautiful and magical. It’s not something necessary, but that small detail adds so much…” she replied. “Magic is so wonderful.”

Draco stopped and faced her. “I guess it’s easy to take it for granted when you’ve had it your whole life.” He turned and watched a hedgehog bumble around the bottom one the nearest one. “But you’re right, they are beautiful.” He looked at her, and she heard the unspoken cliche, the one he may be feeling but was too proud to say, it was so overused-  _ you’re beautiful.  _

Hermione wanted to kiss him again. She moved her arms to his neck, tilted her head up, and before her eyes were closed and she could lean up, his mouth was on hers, meeting her halfway. Draco kissed her sweetly, cupping her face with his hand, licking her lips gently, pressing her into him with his arms. She moaned softly and his hand moved to her neck, his mouth moving over hers. She didn’t want to stop, and his arms holding her tight made it clear he didn’t want to either. 

But they broke apart, finding themselves snogging in a public plaza, with their old enemy turned spouse. Hermione looked down, flushed from the kiss, and bit back a smile, grabbing his hand again. Malfoy’s eyes blazed at hers when she glanced up, and his whole demeanour communicated that he was proud to be here with her. She got the sense he was claiming her, and Hermione felt filled with… fondness. She decided to call it fondness, too scared of what other feelings might be coming up, too worried about the whole strange situation they were getting themselves into. 

She avoided his eyes, and looking up at the fountain, apparated them home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked my first shot at writing erotica! Feel free to leave comments or kudos, they're very inspiring as I try to figure out and navigate my first anxiety-ridden steps to writing a full fic!
> 
> Random note: I work right near The Shambles in York, what Diagon Alley is based off of-- I shop for my tea there and occasionally eat lunch at the market! It's always packed with HP tourists (or was anyway, before COVID) and has a couple of shops with HP souvenirs. It's all medieval and narrow, with the buildings all leaning in, really cool, but very unique, not really found elsewhere in Britain! So I made the Whorls a bit different. Hope you enjoyed :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More lemons at the end

At home, Hermione kissed Draco on the cheek and told him she was going to review her new books. She took her books up to the office, and sat down heavily in the chair. Feelings from the last two days roiled up inside her. She was dating a man she knew to be her husband, a man she also knew to be a boy who bullied her and her friends. And Ron, one of her dearest friends, had petitioned her for her love while her feelings were growing for another.

She had slept with Malfoy, kissed him, laughed with him. At this point, she couldn’t force herself to ignore how she felt, but could she ignore their history? Who knew what was the right thing to do, when the time came to return? Should she listen to Ron and try to make their relationship the best it could be, or was Ginny right, were Draco and her good together, a happy partnership?

She had promised to write to Ron, and a blank parchment lay before her, but she only managed blots of ink before she sighed and pushed it away. Part of Hermione had hoped to rendezvous again with Draco tonight, but her libido was completely gone with the turmoil of emotions and the indecision and pressure of it all. The more she stressed, the more she wondered at how Draco and her had spent such a civil, nay, lovely afternoon.

Hermione joined him in the bed late that night, after busying herself with other work to get out her anxiety, and she found him already asleep. But when she crawled into the bed, his arms reached for her, and Hermione happily settled into his arms to sleep.

* * *

The next day at lunch, Hermione used her wand to call Ginny and ask her out to eat. They agreed to meet in Diagon Alley, near where Ginny worked. On the packed narrow street, Hermione immediately spotted her friend’s red hair, her face and neck hidden by a big scarf. They exchanged a strong hug and chose a corner table at the bistro they were at.

Ginny unwrapped her scarf and put the cloak over her chair, and Hermione smiled widely at her, happy to see an uncomplicated face.

“How has it been?” asked Ginny, her face open and empathetic.

“Erm… It’s been… good. Yes, we’re getting along nicely,” Hermione said, unsure how to summarize the changes that had happened, a blush coming to her cheeks.

Ginny raised her eyebrows and smiled warmly, obviously pleased. “Well, that’s great to hear,”

“We-- well-- _I_ got a visitor Sunday night,” Hermione said.

“Really? Who?” Ginny showed no indication she knew what her brother had done.

“Ron came over. Unannounced,” she added, although most times in her life she never would have required forewarning for Ron or Harry to visit.

“ _Ron?_ ” Ginny asked, practically hissing with surprise. “From Ireland? He even missed James’s last birthday, he doesn’t come over for nothing… Was he okay?”

“Yes, he was fine,” Hermione elaborated, “a little singed and dusty, but looking good.”

Ginny’s mouth twisted at the wording, but Hermione continued, “He told me about us. That we had dated. He said when I go back I should try to make it work, that we belong together.”

Ginny’s ears grew red and her mouth pursed, clear signs of Weasley rage. “Why, that little..” she muttered under her breath. “So immature, even all these years later. I had hoped the dragons were whipping some sense into him. Coming here to harass you..”

“No, no, you misunderstand. He was perfectly gentlemanly. I... He just had to get his emotions out. He seemed more mature to me, for certain.”

“Yeah, just because he seemed mature for a 16-year-old doesn’t mean he’s acting his age!” Ginny fumed, and Hermione felt slightly hurt, although perhaps it was a fair point. “Listen Hermione, I may be biased because he’s my brother, and you’re my friend, but… you two were not good for each other.”

Hermione was dumbfounded, that was not what she expected.

“It was painful for me, for us- Harry and me, and actually our whole family, to watch you two plummet together. I don’t think either of you ever fully saw it, from the inside, but I can’t even say it was a learning experience for you both, just pain.” Ginny was back to sympathetic, her eyes searing Hermione’s, insisting honesty and knowledge in this subject. “I’m glad I can tell you how I really feel about it without bringing up any pain, because I’ve never been able to tell you so openly.”

“Oh,” Hermione said. She didn’t know how to respond.

“So when you and Draco found each other, when we all saw what it was like for you two, supporting, lifting the other up, no drama or games, it was… a relief. Ron had already left at that point, but I don’t think he could ever see it that way, with all the other things going on with him. Sometimes I think you two would have been better off if you never even gave it a shot. Then you might still be friends, and he would come to visit more often.”

Hermione’s eyes burned; she felt strangely emotional although she didn’t understand exactly what was making her feel so strongly. Was she mourning a relationship she hadn’t ever had, or her friendship with Ron? Was she upset at what Ginny had told her, or how she was being pushed to Malfoy? It was hard to tell what was going on.

“That’s…hm. Okay. Thanks for telling me your opinion,” Hermione said tactfully, trying to keep emotion out of her voice. She wouldn’t be able to explain it if Ginny asked.

“I think Ron has only been escaping the situation, hasn’t fully processed the split, even if it was nigh on seven years ago. I guess he’s still got it in his head that you should have stayed together, but he has no right to try to change the past. I’m sorry he’s made you wonder.” Ginny patted Hermione on the arm. “But at least you know how Harry and I feel on the subject.”

Hermione didn’t want to talk more about it, didn’t want to be told by anyone what to do anymore. She used the food as distraction and changed the subject to the Potter children, which was easy enough to get Ginny started on. Ginny chattered on about what the kids had going on that week and the stories Molly told her about the mischief they got up to while their parents were at work. She also talked about her work as a journalist, and was gracious enough to affirm she had asked around about the book and trinket.

Despite feeling that Ginny’s eyes were searching her for emotions, as mothers are ought to do, Hermione found the rest of the lunch to be a nice outing.

As soon as she had apparated back to work, however, the weight of what Ginny had told her was back on her shoulders, and Ron’s words booming in her mind as well. _You can make sure we end up together, 'Mione, like we were supposed to_ , he had said. She frowned, and started a letter.

> Dear Ron,
> 
> I appreciate you coming to talk to me, and telling me your feelings about the way things worked out between us. I promise to do what’s best for us with this information. In the meantime, in the world you live in, I am married to Malfoy, so my best advice to my dear friend is to find peace, move on, and live your best life.
> 
> I love you,
> 
> Hermione Granger

She left off her hyphenated surname to not rub it in any further. Hermione had made the letter vague, for his feelings, craftily saying she would do what was best for them. What she felt was best for them was up in the air however, whether to listen to Ron, or Ginny, or neither. Ginny was generally more rational when it came to understanding emotions, more than Ron anyway, who at this moment in sixth year, was just about shunning her romantically. His track record with understanding emotional complexities was not very good. She didn’t want to actively try to make them get together, but she also did not want to try to keep them apart.

Hermione decided she would try to live her life as naturally as possible upon her return. She thought back to the memory draught again, but pushed it out of her head.

She briefly considered the ethics of using an office owl to send a personal letter to Ireland before sending it off before she could think too much on it. Breathing a deep sigh, instead of returning to her office from the Owlery, she went to Malfoy’s office.

His face was neutral, but his eyes lit up when he saw her at his door. “Come in,” he said, with his deliciously low voice. She stood awkwardly across the desk from him, suppressing the will to go around and kiss him. “Do you need something?” he asked, worry underlining his tone.

“No, no, just came to talk.” She sat in a chair that was in the corner of his office. He put his papers aside and folded his hands on his desk, watching her.

“I went to lunch with Ginny, got to talk about some things, that was nice… I wrote Ron,” she paused, and Draco’s eyes stared her down, but his face remained impassive. “I told him to move on.” She opted on omitting her plans for the past, as past Hermione and her choices were not so much his business.

Malfoy’s shoulders lowered slightly, betraying relief at her words, but he nodded, moving his papers back in front of him. Hermione wondered if he was just trying to busy himself to remain calm, or if it was supposed to be a cue to leave. He spoke up, still staring at the papers, answering her question, “That’s good to hear. I wouldn’t want him showing up out of the blue again. Was it something Ginny said?”

“Yes and no. Ginny said the relationship was a bit of a disaster. But also, I’m married, so.”

Hermione kept her eyes on his, hoping for him to glance up from his papers. He didn’t, just humming in response, and Hermione stood up, backing towards the door.

“Well, I’ll see you later, I suppose,” she said.

“Yes, see you then,” Malfoy responded, still staring at his desk.

She walked out of the office. What was that? Right when she decided she would focus on her relationship with Malfoy, when she tells him that, that’s when he decides to get clammy? He basically brushed her off after she went to tell him that Ron was out of the picture. Hermione picked up the pace back to her office, almost breaking into a run by the time she got to her desk. _Ugh, boys_ , she thought, and threw herself into her work for the remainder of the day.

* * *

Hermione apparated home, prepared to go about her business around Malfoy and ignore him entirely if he did the same. But upon her arrival, he got up from the table where he was reading with a cup of tea and went up to her. He put an arm around her waist, pushed a tendril of hair out of her face, and kissed her gently on the lips. She didn’t even have time to put her guard up, and she happily accepted the kiss, putting her hands on his back.

“You didn’t finish yesterday. We need to rectify this situation,” he said in a low voice in her ear.

Her eyes widened, unsure of what he meant, and he led her by the hand to the sofa, gently pushing her down. He kissed her more fervently, and she responded in kind, twisting her fingers through his hair.

He moved his hand up her leg, pushing up her robes. Mid thigh, he stopped, looking to her questioningly, and she nodded vigorously, meeting his lips with hers again. His hands pushed up her robes to her waist, and felt under her pants, stroking her pussy which was moistening with excitement. Draco broke the kiss and moved down between her legs, and Hermione moved her robes out of the way and shoved down her underwear and he positioned his head between her thighs.

He licked slowly up her slit, eliciting a gasping moan from Hermione. Draco used his finger, rubbing teasingly around her clit while his tongue massaged her. He inserted his finger in her pussy and started to slowly tease her, moving in and out, while he sucked on her clit and licked around her labia. Hermione was speechless, breathless, moaning with the feelings of pleasure he was bringing her. As he began to move more purposefully and with more speed, she rode the highs he was bringing her, pushing his face in deeper, moaning and crying out his name until she came, hard, riding his face.

He emerged looking satisfied and lusty, stripping quickly and moving her sideways on the couch. “Yes, fuck me, Draco!” she whimpered, wanting to feel his hard cock in her still pulsating pussy. He fucked her quick and fast until she was coming again, sensitive from the first orgasm, and he finished on her belly.

He grabbed his wand out of his robes and cast a scourgify on them both before collapsing on the thin strip of couch next to her. Hermione was still trying to catch her breath, seeing stars and smiling like an idiot, and he wrapped his arms around her, kissing her deeply and then pushing his head into her neck, nuzzling himself into her.

“Gods,” he said, his words muffled by her hair, “You’re so good.” Hermione grinned and she held him tight against her.

The autumnal daylight had quickly faded in their living room, and soon they roused themselves, dressing and returning back to evening duties. Malfoy went to the kitchen and Hermione decided to let him flounder on finding some sort of dinner for the two of them while she started on one of the books they had bought yesterday-- Extraordinary Cases of Travelling through Time. It detailed the odder instances of wizards travelling through time, the ones usually borne of error or mistakes, not government-sanctioned devices. It was, as one might think, an engrossing read.

At some point, Draco came back into the room, sitting himself beside her on the sofa with a book of his own, and she could smell something on the stove cooking away. She tucked her feet under his thigh, and he looked at her, his face neutral, but his eyes almost caressing her in the motion they moved around her face. Draco reached out and grabbed her hand, returning his attention to his book.

Hermione couldn’t concentrate on her own page for a while; she felt their warm touch, she watched his eyes scan the page and the way his hair tucked behind his ear. She realised with a start, that she hadn’t thought of Ron since their lunch conversation. And it had been longer still, since she had thought of Hogwarts! Rather than panic about the pressing need to find a spell to return, Hermione instead settled back down into the comfortable moment she was in, happy in her home, cuddled against Draco, and turned back to the interesting stories in her book.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He's hot and he's cold, but can you blame him? Being married and yet not even friends? It's tricky territory.


	10. Chapter 10

The next day during her lunch break, which may have been running a bit long, Hermione sped through the last chapters of Extraordinary Cases of Travelling through Time. She had jotted down some notes here and there in their personal case journal about ones that bore some resemblance to their own situation. But as she closed the back cover on the book, she made a worrying connection between all the stories in the book that contrasted to their own. She stood up, grabbing the book, and sped past a startled looking Nnena to Draco’s office. 

“Hello,” he greeted her, as she barged in, not even waiting for an invitation after her knock. “What news do you bring today?” 

Hermione pulled the guest chair up to his desk and propped down the book. “This book, the one we got on Monday. I just finished it.”

If he was surprised at the speed at which she had read a weighty tome of case studies of time travel, he didn’t show it. “What did you find?” he asked, looking at her lips and bodice, before dragging his attention back to the book and matter at hand.

“There’s accounts of going to the past or future way out of one’s own lifetime, there’s cases of travelling within one’s own lifetime. There’s one even where it seems someone travelled to a lifetime of their own that may have been in a parallel universe, not our own. But in all instances…” she paused to catch her breath, “In all these stories, everyone conserves their own body.”

Malfoy frowned at that, taking the book from her and flipping through. “What do you mean they ‘conserve their own body’?”

“Like, when they time travel they still are who they are! Unlike us-- who-- we’ve aged. We’re not in our sixteen-year-old bodies, which is when we travelled.”

Malfoy’s frown deepened and he continued to scan the page before him, skimming through several pages of each case. She pressed on, “It seems Harry was right, that amnesia does seem more likely than time-travel at the moment, because if we had time-travelled, the future-us would be in these bodies, and we would have our own bodies.”

“No, it’s not amnesia,” Malfoy stated, looking up from the book. “Occam’s razor-- how likely is it that _both_ of us have identical amnesia, spanning the exact amount of time, and our memory lapse just happens to start right after you read a book on Divining futures? No, that’s too specific to make sense. Amnesia is definitely out.”

“Oh, I agree,” Hermione said, nodding, “Plus, there isn’t any evidence to any situation that would have led to memory loss. I am definitely in favour of time-travel, but it’s unsettling that there’s no precedent to our situation. Especially in terms of returning.”

Malfoy nodded, satisfied at having removed one hypothesis, and he continued to flip through the book.

Hermione’s eyes widened, and she reached out to grab Draco’s arm. “What if when we return, we’re still in these bodies?” 

He looked up at her, and cracked a grin, saying, “Hermione, that wouldn’t be a bad thing at all. Your body is exquisite.”

“But we’re still sixth years inside-- that would be so weird being a student in a professor-age body!” Hermione insisted. His grin faded as he realised the actual implications that would bring.

“You’re right, that would be a problem. But we’re not certain that will happen, let’s keep our heads on the current problem at hand.” 

She nodded, noticing she still had her hand on his arm, and felt calmed by having him in her corner. They were both bright, and working on this together, they would figure it out. She gave him a weak smile and said, “You’re right. Okay, let’s just keep this in mind. Maybe you should read it and see if you come to any other conclusions.” Draco assented.

“I’ve got to get back to work, I’m going on hour three of my lunch break,” Hermione gave a sheepish smile. “I’ll see you at home.” She left the book with him and went back to her office to get some work done and stay out of trouble.

* * *

That evening and the following day led to two more dead ends. Narcissa wrote to Draco saying the vaults had been scoured for anything similar to the description Hermione had given of the device, but nothing had turned up. And the book on the theory of time-travel that they had bought was mainly focussed on the arithmancy, too abstract and theoretical to be of any help, unless they found a solution and needed help with calculations to carry it through. With each futile discovery, Hermione and Draco would exchange looks; in his face, Hermione saw the same mix of disappointment, but also a kind of relief. She wasn’t exactly relieved of being stuck in the future, but the day to day of exploring her feelings for Draco and spending more time with him was something that would be completely taken away from her upon returning, and she wasn’t quite ready for that yet. 

She and Draco continued finding excuses to go visit one another’s office at work, and after work they would chat, eat, read. On Thursday, Harry wrote, asking if the two of them wanted to come over Sunday, saying he missed their company. The letter had a D crossed out followed by Hermione, as if he had meant to write to Draco but thought better of it. Malfoy frowned when she suggested it to him, but finally shrugged, agreeing to it. Hermione didn’t even have to bring up the fact that she went to Pansy’s party. 

Friday afternoon, Hermione was greeted with Bubo (their eagle owl) swooping in with a letter for her. She didn’t recognise the handwriting with her name addressed on the outside, and tore open the nice envelope to read the parchment inside. She ran to find Malfoy in the drawing room.

“The book! They’ve got the book!” Hermione said excitedly, waving the parchment ahead of her. Malfoy snatched the paper out of her hands and scanned it himself quickly. He looked up at her, eyes bright, and pulled her into a tight embrace.

She pulled back from the hug and kissed him deeply, revelling in the feeling of his mouth, wrapping her arms around his neck and--

Suddenly, his lips went stiff and unresponsive, and he gently pushed her away from him. 

“What’s wrong?” Hermione asked, but Malfoy’s face was hard and unreadable. He disentangled himself and walked away without another word. She heard his footsteps ascend the stairs. Hermione was left dumbfounded, running her hands through her hair, wondering if she should go up to talk to him? She wasn’t sure if she had done something wrong by kissing him, or if it had something to do with the news. She dawdled in the kitchen for a bit, mostly pacing while pretending to herself that she was making a pot of tea. Finally, she went upstairs to look for him, and found the door to the bedroom locked. She debated using _alohomora_ , deciding instead to just knock, saying, “Draco, are you in there? What’s wrong, what happened? Did I do something?”

There was a silence, and she almost turned around and went back downstairs before she heard noises and shuffling behind the door. Malfoy opened it, his face the neutral mask of old, betraying nothing except contempt. He walked to the bed and sat on it, so Hermione joined him.

He looked at her, and suddenly his mask fell away and he looked sad and confused and put his hand fondly on her cheek and kissed her on the mouth. She accepted the kiss, but looked at him expectantly.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. I… We’ve been avoiding talking about something which needs discussion,” Draco said simply, but didn’t elaborate any more. 

Hermione was left in the lurch on what he could mean, but she had some idea. There had been no discussion on what would happen when they arrived back, on how they would act. But more than that, there had been no discussion about how their feelings had changed now. The two of them were being physical with each other, kissing and more, but these things can take place without emotion. But there was emotion, Hermione felt. Her whole idea of Draco had drastically changed as his barriers had come down and she was able to spend time with him. Not knowing if this is where the conversation was meant to go, but feeling her emotions building up inside her, needing release, she confessed hastily and in a soft voice.

“Draco, I like you. You’re smart and funny and easy to be around. All the things I detested before I realised are just walls you’ve built up around yourself. I love watching your hair in the light and your face as you read and having you to cuddle with at night.” Hermione wanted to reach out and run her hands through his hair, or hold his hand, but her heart was tight in her throat as she spilled her feelings to a man she previously would never have trusted with such honesty.

Malfoy’s lips were a tight hard line, and every sentence of hers made the furrow in his brow deeper. His mouth twisted and worked, and he sighed heavily.

“I’m sorry- if it’s not welcome, it doesn’t have to be a problem I can--” Hermione started, reacting to his body language, before getting cut off by Malfoy.

“No, love. I… I feel… You make me…” Gone was suave Malfoy, with always a snarky comment on his lips, and instead he kissed her again. He held her body tightly in his arms, pressing his mouth hard against hers, an urgency and passion underlying every move of his mouth over hers. 

He pulled away, and tried again. “I like you too, Hermione. I didn’t ever expect it, but you are amazing, and I love spending time with you.” She beamed at him, and he couldn’t help but crack a smile until his face was sombre again. “But what happens when we go back? You betray Harry and come to my side? I leave the Slytherin dungeons to spend time with you in the library? Do you see how we don’t work in the context of Hogwarts?”

Her heart felt as if in a strong grip, feelings surging up, bad and good, from his message of mixed emotions. Hermione fought the urge to gather all the facts and study them and go through this logically; she feared what would happen if she did, she feared having to say goodbye to this relationship with Malfoy, this budding love.

So she did something she only did when she had to, she shoved aside logic and rationality and just grabbed Draco tight, kissing him full on the mouth, hard at first, and then gentler as he became responsive, his arms wrapping around her. She pushed him back onto the bed and straddled him, kissing him passionately, her tongue exploring his mouth and her hands roaming his body, feeling his muscles. Hermione felt her body flush as her need grew, having Draco so willing and beautiful beneath her. 

She broke away from his mouth, moving to kiss his earlobe, his neck, pushing his robes away to kiss further down. Hermione wanted her mouth all over him, she wanted herself all over him. With his help, she undressed him quickly, and then kissed down his chest and abdomen to his awaiting cock. It was long and hard and twitched as she teased down and around it, before finally putting it into her mouth. Draco groaned as she moved her mouth up and down his cock, shoving it deep in her mouth and savouring the feeling of pleasuring him.

Draco pushed her shoulder down, encouraging her to continue as gently as his lust allowed him to. Her eagerness, and the warm wetness of her mouth, had him wanting more, and he barely resisted pushing his hips up to meet her mouth. Her thoughts were losing clarity as lust took over. Draco’s fervour grew and he started to press his dick more forcefully into her mouth. She moaned as he did so and an involuntary grunt of pleasure escaped from his lips, quickly turning into a low groan as Hermione cupped his heavy balls in her hand, cradling them, her other hand bracing against the hard muscle of his thigh. Her pussy was aching, it pulsed in rhythm with Draco’s powerful thrusts into her mouth. Her hard nipples were brushing against his thighs, and she could sense through the haze of lust that he was struggling to hold back. 

She put her hand on his cock and continued to pump it after she pulled her mouth off briefly to say to him, “Come for me, Draco.” When her mouth again covered his cock, he groaned and gripped her shoulder, coming and pumping his hot liquid into her mouth. She took it all, moaning with him, as he finished inside her mouth. 

Malfoy lay there catching his breath, and Hermione sidled up, laying beside him. He pet her hair with his hands and said, “Merlin, Hermione, that was fucking amazing.” She smiled and kissed his cheek, nuzzling into his neck. He held her tightly.

“We’ll go pick up the book tomorrow,” she said, and felt him nod against her head.

* * *

Saturday morning, after a morning romp, Hermione took a shower, feeling ready for the day and happy to be spending it with Draco. She put on some form fitting tan robes with an embroidered short cape and waved to him as she flooed to the Leaky Cauldron, even though he followed right behind her. Once inside the dark pub, Hermione grasped his hand tightly and pulled him along to the back to get into Diagon Alley. 

As they walked the tight crooked streets hand-in-hand, Hermione realised that this was the first time they had been somewhere she knew from her life before. Being in this familiar environment, she was alert to the looks of others towards her and Malfoy; she was hyper-aware of the fact that they were  _ holding hands _ . In  _ Diagon Alley.  _ Notwithstanding the past week or so of progress, being somewhere that reminded her of their old life, she was struck again with how strange it was that she didn’t want to let go of his hand, that she was happy to shop at his side and listen to his occasional observations. 

It also became apparent that no one cared; no one looked over, they received no strange stares. She was getting less attention holding hands with a Slytherin than she had walking beside Harry to class at Hogwarts. Hermione smiled without meaning to, gripping his hand tighter and remarking on the colourful cloaks that had become in vogue. 

The thin, grey witch at the bookshop sold them the book without comment, a watery smile on her face and her eyes clouded with cataracts. The tome was wrapped in paper and tied with twine; Hermione placed it in her bag to open later. Outside once more, she was disappointed to find that Florean’s ice cream parlour was gone, but they found a new shop, Gertrude’s Gelateria across the street. 

Draco handed her her cone, lavender bilberry, and she smiled and turned to exit the shop to eat on the tables outdoors. They had seated themselves on the small tables, magically warmed to improve the ice cream eating experience, when Hermione was finally able to gently unwrap the book and open it. Inside was the same figure-eight hole carved into the pages, but it was empty. 

“Bugger,” she mumbled. 

“Let me see,” Draco asked, and he wiped his hands clean and took the book from her. He turned it over in his hands, observing it, and hummed when he examined the inside. “It’s interesting. Exactly as you described.”

“But there’s nothing in there,” Hermione said with a sigh. “Well, I might just pop back to the bookshop and make sure they don’t have it.”

Malfoy assented and took her cone from her, and Hermione ran back across to the shop with the book. She explained to the witch about the piece she thought belonged to the book, and showed her the hole. The witch said she remembered them describing it in the letter they sent, but that there had been nothing in the book when they found it. Dejected, Hermione thanked her and went back to see Malfoy.

“Well, with us on the case,” he said confidently, “we might just figure it all out with only the book.”

Hermione gave him a smile and kissed him on the lips, the autumn air whipping their robes around them. She wrapped the book back up and placed it back in her bag, and they happily finished their ice cream at the table on the cobbles, people watching and chatting to each other. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep thinking I'm almost done, but then it takes way more time to tell what happens! I'm suspecting only a chapter or two left, though!


End file.
